I Dare You
by araeo
Summary: He's the guy she's always wanted. She's the girl he shouldn't want. Bro code says you don't go for your friends' ex-girlfriends. It also says you don't go for their sisters. What happens when you breach the bro code? AH
1. Chapter 1

_Hi all! Short first chapter. The rest are longer. This will update weekly, as it's pre-written. Enjoy!_

 _Many thanks to Sarcastic Bimbo for her super beta skills. And her hilarious facebook memes._

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 **CHAPTER ONE**

 **EDWARD**

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I've never spent a lot of time thinking about how I'm going to die, but I never expected it to be on a running trail in Discovery Park. I'm literally about to puke my guts out, but I can't stop. There's only half a mile to go, and then I can get in my car and die in peace.

Half a mile. Half a mile.

The desperate, pleading thought runs through my mind on repeat. My feet pound the gravel trail to the rhythm of heavy, thumping bass as my legs feebly attempt to eat up the distance. The minuscule breakfast of Gatorade and Advil sloshing around in my stomach doesn't do much to motivate me, but a hangover isn't an excuse to skip my workout.

This punishment is thoroughly deserved.

Another Saturday morning, another headache, and a one night stand I already regret. It's not a regular thing for me, but the walk of shame is real. I swear everyone around me can see it, even though as a guy, it's not nearly as obvious. There's no smeared makeup, and if my clothes are wrinkled and my hair is a mess, well, that's easily ignored. Lots of guys are generally disheveled much of the time.

I don't know why I do these things, but my best guess is it's out of boredom. A shitty excuse, but it's all I've got. What else is there to do when one is single, relatively young, and in possession of a rather large disposable income? I don't have a lot of free time, and I'd never see the light of day if I stayed in my apartment all the time. The hospital is like a tomb lit with fluorescent lights, and I'm itching for fresh air, sunshine, and freedom at the end of every shift.

My mother tells me I need a girlfriend. Someone to come home to, a sympathetic ear and a pair of caring arms. Yeah, my mom is a sappy as it gets, but she's a smart woman. The trouble is, as much as I like the idea of someone steady in my life, it seems women only want me for my money, or the possibility of becoming a doctor's wife.

So here I am, bored to death, hungover, and alone. Trying not to die while I get my five miles in, and praying I can leave last night's mistakes in the dust. Other runners cross me on the trail, casting looks of sympathy at my flagging pace. I'm sure I look like death: pale and clammy, dark circles under my eyes like bruises. At least, that's what I looked like in the mirror this morning before I laced up my running shoes.

I don't realize my phone is ringing at first; it blends in with the repetitive EDM pulsing through my earbuds, matching the pounding hammer in my skull. Catching the call a few rings in, I lurch to a stop at the side of the trail to answer, eternally grateful for the excuse to take a breather. Now, if I can keep myself from puking, I'll count myself lucky.

"'Lo?" I try not to huff into the mic, but the hangover isn't helping and I can't freaking breathe. I'm bent over at the waist as I try not to suffocate.

"Edward?" a small, female voice asks through the crackle of an unsteady connection.

"Yeah... who's this?" Shit. Did I give my number to that girl last night? Stranger things have happened, and while I was hammered, I don't think I was that hammered. She should have taken the hint when I pulled the disappearing act, but I've known a couple girls who were on the desperate side, showing up at my favorite bar and trying to bring me shit at the hospital.

God, I'm such a fucking tool.

"Hello? Edward? It's Bella."

"Bella?" My shoulders sag in relief. At least I won't have to start screening my calls—yet. Her voice is a welcome one, and I smile in spite of my impending death.

"It's Emmett's sister, you moron." She sounds a little miffed, like I she thinks I can't remember her. I can almost hear her rolling her eyes.

I smirk, my mood brightening, and I wonder if the Advil is finally kicking in. It's good to hear Bella's voice; it's been too long.

Her face flashes through my mind—large, sable eyes and dark, shiny hair. My mind also supplies visions of soft-looking, shiny lips, sweet, perky tits; a phenomenal ass, and great legs; thoughts which I try valiantly to ignore. My best friend would rip my balls off if he knew I ever thought of his baby sister in any way that wasn't saintly. But I do. Frequently.

"I know who you are, Bella," I laugh. "I'm just surprised to hear from you. What's up?"

I haven't seen Bella since Christmas. She's busy with graduate school, and I'm working long shifts at the hospital and/or constantly on call. Between attending surgeries and administering the good drugs, anesthesiologists rarely get a break. We're in high demand due to a nationwide shortage, which means I'm every surgeon's bitch. I straighten to my full height and wipe sweat from my brow with the hem of my jacket as I wait for her response. I catch a whiff of whiskey and my stomach threatens to revolt again. That's right—I'm sweating buckets in March. Fucking hangover.

"I sort of need a favor. I need—" she begins, but then she's cut off by the clash of loud noises over the line.

Is that yelling? Some sort of metal slamming around? It sounds like giant robots in a boxing match. Where the hell is she?

I make my mind stop wandering and concentrate on helping Bella. "Sure, anything. What do you need?" Emmett would kill me if I left her hanging. Any chance to see her is also a bonus.

"I..." The rest of what she says comes out in an unintelligible jumble. Stupid cell phones.

Pulling the phone away from my ear for a second, I check the coverage—five circles. "I'm sorry, what? I couldn't hear."

"I. Need. You. To. Bail. Me. Out," she says slowly, like she thinks I'm being snarky.

I grin. She's always been such a little smartass. "Bail you out? Of where?"

It's the ass-crack of dawn—way too early for her to need help getting out of a bad date. I frown at my next thought—maybe it is way too late. What if she already spent the night with some idiotic frat boy? Damn it, I might have to beat the shit out of some undeserving douche just for touching her. Then again, maybe she needs a ride.

Please God, let it be that last one.

She huffs out a breath, obviously out of patience. "Of jail, Edward. I need you to bail me out of jail."

 _What in the ever-loving fuck?_

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a/n:

 _What do you think of our Edward? I think it's fair to say he makes a few bad decisions, but I like him anyway._

 _Send me some good vibes; Mr. Araeo will be in England next week, so I'll be outnumbered by the Minions._

 _See you next week._


	2. Chapter 2

Hi! I'm hoping this counts as a big thanks and a reply to all of you who read the first chapter. I was dared to post chapter 2 (hello, Compass54), and I caved. I won't be so easy next time, but I figured I owed you more words than ~1K to start out. I also enjoy the hell out of reading the comments, so I'm being a little selfish, too.

Many thanks to Sarcastic Bimbo for beta duties. She also makes me laugh.

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CHAPTER TWO — BELLA

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"The fuck? Are you kidding? You'd better be kidding." Edward's voice literally pierces my eardrum—it's that loud. I pull the heavy, dirty receiver away from my ear.

Shit. I knew he'd be pissed, but he's my only option. He won't be anywhere near as mad as Emmett or my father; at least, I hope he won't.

He's probably the only person I can count on not to tell Dad. Well, the only person who can afford it. Angela will keep my secrets to the grave, but she can't afford bail fees any more than I can, not on our meager grad school budgets. Edward's initial reaction aside, I know he'll come through. Getting out of here is definitely worth the teasing I'll be in for once he helps me out of this mess.

I bring the phone back to my ear and say through clenched teeth, "No, I am not kidding. Do you know what happens to girls like me in jail? My sweet virgin ass is at stake here!"

Apparently the thought of my impending doom amuses him, since he laughs his ass off. I wish I could reach through this ugly jail phone and beat him with it. I try to ignore the tiny little part of me that loves to hear him laugh. The part which still gets butterflies every single time we interact. I'm completely over the girlish crush I had on my brother's best friend. Totally.

"Glad to know you find this so funny." Ugh. I'll never live this down.

"Your 'virgin ass' is funny. You being incarcerated, however, isn't. How the hell did you end up in jail?"

I can still hear the amusement in that smooth, deep voice of his. It shouldn't be attractive, because he's definitely not laughing with me—but I find it maddeningly so. It also makes me question my judgement; now, and for the last ten‒plus years. Why it takes my reaction to Edward to realize this instead of my current surroundings, I haven't a clue. See above, re: judgement skills.

"Tell you what—you come and get me, and then I'll tell you the whole story." I'm not at all eager to recount the humiliating series of events which led to my arrest, but if it gets me out of this place and home, I'll spill the details. I don't exactly have the money for an Uber at the moment.

"Hmm, I don't know … how can I be sure they're not letting a menace back out on the streets? Were you trespassing? Tagging freight cars in the rail yard? No, I've got it—you were jaywalking!"

This time I'm pretty sure the guards can hear him laughing at me. I grit my teeth and swallow back all the insults I want to hurl at him. Over the years, I've used just about every derogatory comment in the book when it comes to Edward and my brother. They made pissing me off a professional sport for the majority of my life. But while Emmett simply makes me want to just smack him, I want to smack Edward … and then kiss him. The sad part is, no matter how much I want it to, a kiss will never happen.

He doesn't see me that way. Never has. Never will.

"Wrap it up, Miss Swan," the supervising deputy calls, pointing to her watch.

I start to panic. "C'mon, Edward. I really need your help, here."

No response, just more laughing. Prick.

Sighing in irritation, I growl, "Look, can you come get me or not?" Doesn't he realize I used my one phone call on him? Surely it's obvious.

"Can you give me half an hour? Oh, wait—you're not going anywhere," he quips, but if he laughs at his own dumb joke this time, I can't hear it.

I scowl, wishing my death glare could travel over the airwaves to smack Edward right in his stupid forehead. "Funny."

"I'll see you in half an hour. Are you in King County?"

There's more than one? Since he's right, and I don't care to know how many other jails in which I could possibly land myself, I answer, "Yeah, King County."

"Okay. Sit tight." His smug laugh is cut off when the connection goes dead.

Thank God, I'm finally getting out of here. A traitorous little thrill curls in my stomach at the thought of seeing Edward, embarrassing as the circumstances might be.

As the guard escorts me back to the holding area, I glance around the room: the bank of payphones, the chipped, high-gloss-painted cinderblock walls, and the plastic chairs pre-equipped with slots in the back to make room for the handcuffs. It's all so surreal, mostly because I can't remember the last time I saw a payphone. Do they even exist outside of jail these days? I snort at my train of thought. King County Jail—the last bastion of the pay phone.

Gotta entertain myself somehow. At least I can laugh about it.

I doubt Charlie would say the same. I have a strong suspicion all dads would flip out when their precious baby daughters end up in jail; as a cop, my father's reaction would be even worse. But he's never gonna know.

I will remove Edward's balls with a spork if he spills. I'll be sad about damaging what I'm sure are superior goods, but I won't let mere feelings stop me.

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"It's time to go, Miss Swan," one of the ever-changing deputies calls.

I spring up off the section of hard metal bench I've called home for the last twelve-plus hours, ready to get the hell out of Dodge. I try not to flat out run out of the community holding cell, but I can't help myself. No one says goodbye, but I don't give a shit. I'm out of here, and they're not. I did my time; kept my head down and my mouth shut.

Wow. I watch too many cop shows.

I follow the deputy down enough hallways to get me thoroughly lost before stopping at a desk, where she chats with another woman in a matching uniform. I fidget while they talk, anxiously looking toward the door, where I see a tiny slice of daylight peeking through. I turn toward it like a plant seeking sunlight; I want out of here, like yesterday.

After they're done with their small talk, my keeper turns to me. "It was a pleasure having you, Miss Swan." With a wry smile, the deputy—S. Cope, according to her name tag—hands me a large plastic bag containing my keys, purse and phone. "Hope you won't be joining us again."

Me too, lady. Me too. "Nope. Never." I shake my head emphatically.

Deputy Cope laughs at my enthusiastic response. "Good deal." She points to a heavy-duty looking door on my right. There's a tall, narrow window with thick glass right in the center, and through it I can see Edward waiting.

He's been a sight for my sore eyes ever since I grew boobs and realized boys were actually not that gross, but today, he's just … gah. He's not even dressed up, clad in jacket, jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, but he looks gorgeous. Maybe it's because he's come to my rescue. He's become a knight to my inner princess in distress. It's then I realize jail has turned my brain to mush. To rectify my idiotic thoughts, I picture Edward, riding a unicorn that's puking a rainbow and farting puffs of pink cotton candy.

It doesn't help. I'm sort of mesmerized by the thought, actually.

A loud buzz comes from the door and it clicks open. "You're free to go, Miss Swan."

"See ya." I can't get out of there fast enough, and I run straight into Edward's open arms. I throw my arms around his waist in what starts as a relieved expression of thanks, and ends up with me unashamedly soaking in the feel of his arms wrapped around me. It's my secret—I know it's just a friendly hug to him, and that's all it'll ever be.

He rests his chin on my head and says, "Hello, Jailbird."

I roll my eyes, even though he can't see it. "That's not funny."

"Oh, it's funny." He pulls back and peers down at me, making a show of scanning my clothing. "What, they wouldn't let you keep the outfit? I bet you'd look good in stripes."

"There is no 'outfit,' dumbass."

"How am I supposed to know? I've never been to jail," he says with a smug grin.

"Not for lack of trying, I'm sure. Having a detective for a best friend probably doesn't hurt." I grin right back.

"Having a detective for a brother didn't help you much, did it? Maybe we should tell him about this little meeting…"

I meet his teasing with a death glare. It must work, because he suddenly looks nervous and clears his throat, glancing around like he needs to find the quickest way out of this joint, like yesterday.

Fine. By. Me.

"Come on. My car's just down the block." Abruptly, he guides me toward the exit.

"What, no valet service?" I nudge him in the side, though I'd rather he pull me closer than push me away. I don't want him to know that, of course. Lucky me, he doesn't budge, only leads me through the double doors and away from my own personal hell.

"It's jail, not the Ritz, Bella," he says with an exaggerated sigh as we head down the street.

"Don't remind me." I take a deep breath of damp Seattle air and let it out. A little shiver of relief shakes my shoulders and Edward pulls me closer, looking down at me with concern.

"You're okay, aren't you? Nothing … happened in there, right?" His worried expression darkens with anger. "Bella, if—"

"No, no! Edward, I'm fine, I promise. I'm just glad to be out of there." God, he looks hot when he's mad. Protective men—meaning Charlie and Emmett—usually annoy me. But Edward, now, he's a whole different story. Seeing him ready to defend me has my heart beating just a bit faster. I stifle a smile and look down at our feet as we walk.

Edward stops right in the middle of the sidewalk and turns me to face him. Gently, he grips my biceps and bends a bit so I don't have to crane my neck to see his face. "If something did happen, you'd tell me, right? Because Emmett would kick my ass—"

"Relax. Your ass isn't in jeopardy," I assure him, deadpan. The reminder of my brother almost sours my mood, but I'm enjoying this too much.

Nodding, he gives me his trademark half-smile and we head down the block. Once again, he throws an arm around my shoulders. I do an internal fist-pump.

"So tell me, Bella—what's it like in the slammer? Did you trade cigarettes for favors? Smuggle contraband? Make someone your bitch?"

I can't help but laugh. "I was in jail for one night, not in prison for ten years!"

"Come on, you could at least make something up. Entertain me. I did come all the way down here to get you."

"Go watch _Orange is the New Black_. Surely you have Netflix."

Putting his free hand to his heart, Edward asks, "Did you just invite me to Netflix and chill?"

I blink in surprise—and nearly drool at the thought. Yes, please.

"Relax, Bella. I was kidding," he laughs, crushing all my schoolgirl hopes and dreams. "God, the look on your face! Priceless."

Before I can cover my disappointment with more snark, we reach his car. It's sleek and black, and so shiny it looks like he just drove it off the lot. It probably shoots hundred dollar bills out the tailpipes as he drives.

"You got a new car? I thought doctors spent all their salary on student loan payments."

He grins and digs in his pocket, producing an electronic key attached to a Seahawks keychain. "I'm all paid up on the loans." One beep later and he's opening my door. "I bought this about six months ago."

"How'd you manage that? Those aren't exactly payday loans." I'll have a shit ton of student loans once I graduate, and a Master's in Education doesn't cost nearly as much as an MD.

Edward waits for me to get settled in the car, then leans an arm on the doorframe and dips down to my level. "I worked as an escort in medical school," he says, as if he's just told me he had oatmeal for breakfast this morning. "I also stripped a little on the side. It's quite lucrative."

If I'd been drinking anything, it would be all over his windshield. "Are you kidding me?" I don't realize my mouth is hanging open until he nudges it closed with a fingertip. I'm too busy wondering about his going rate, and if I could possibly afford it.

Laughing, he shakes his head. "Bella, Bella. You're too easy."

I'm strangely disappointed. I can't tell him that, so I come up with, "Shouldn't I be saying that about you?"

"Guess I deserved that one. Now, put your seatbelt on." He waits a beat, like he's making some kind of decision. "My grandfather Platt had more money than God. I have a trust fund," he says, like it's a bad thing.

The door shuts with a soft thump and I do as he says, then get grumpy with myself because I did it without giving him shit. I've gone out of my way to give him shit for most of my life, why am I stopping now?

While he crosses around to the driver's side, I take in my surroundings. The bucket seats are butter-soft, cream-colored leather. There's not a speck of dust on the dashboard, and the console looks as if it contains more computing power than my Mac. Edward settles in and buckles his seatbelt. With one push of a button, the car purrs to life. And I do mean purr. It's throaty and deep, one of those engine sounds that just screams, "I go so fast, the cops won't be able to catch me."

It's a nice ride, which doesn't surprise me. Edward has always been meticulous about his cars—even the ancient Volvo he drove in high school sparkled (with the help of a hell of a lot of Turtle Wax, Armor-All, and elbow grease). Don't ask how I know. It involves a gallon of milk, sixty minutes, a lost bet, and a whole lot of humiliation on my part. Emmett and I had to wash his car for a month.

"This really is a nice car."

"Thanks!" He smiles wide as his long fingers curl around the steering wheel.

I have to force myself from fantasizing about those fingers. It's no easy task.

When I finally stop entertaining my dirty, dirty thoughts, I take in his enthusiastic grin. I picture him pressing his foot on the gas and saying, "Vroom, vroom!" like a little kid with his matchbox cars. Then I'm staring at his fingers again and dreaming about what else I'd like them to touch. I need to find something to keep my thoughts from spiraling completely down into the gutter, so I do what I do best. Stir shit.

"Edward, I have to ask … is James Bond mad?" I ask, fighting hard to keep a straight face. Yep, this'll do nicely.

I'm rewarded with a side-eyed glance as he pulls out of the parking space. "What?"

"Was he mad when you stole his car?" I point to the mainframe server on his dash. "At least one of these buttons has to deploy an oil slick or shoot spikes from the tires. Maybe fire a few rockets? But, you need to know—I can't protect you if he comes looking to get his car back. I might be a hardened criminal and all, but I'm a runner, not a fighter."

Edward shakes his head, but I can still see the way his lips curve even though I can tell he doesn't want to smile. "Nope. This one's all mine." He taps the wheel. "This thing's on the right side. If this was James Bond's car, you'd be in the driver's seat." He stops at a light and turns to look straight at me. "That'd be scary." Then he points to an ambiguous button outlined in glowing blue. "That's the rocket launcher."

"Ha ha. The old 'women drivers' joke. Amateur," I scoff, resting back against the plush headrest. This seat really does feel like a leather-wrapped cloud in heaven. I close my eyes and sigh in bliss.

"Not 'women drivers'," he says, "just you."

Ugh. There goes my bliss. If I had the energy to open my eyes, I'd give him the side-eye. "All because I backed out of the garage that one time…"

He cracks up. "The door was down!"

I smirk. "Semantics."

"You're something else."

"Oh, I know what that means. People only say that when they can't find anything nice to say about you!"

"Or it could mean you're unique."

"An adjective that is also both good and bad!"

He laughs. "Touché."

Then we're moving, and the smooth ride is almost like being rocked to sleep.

"Where to, Bella?" Edward asks as we accelerate. It pushes me back into the comfy seat and all I want to do is go home and sleep in my own bed … until I remember one tiny detail.

Jake.

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a/n:

One: I stole the "sweet virgin ass" line from the movie Half Baked. Or rather, I was thinking of that scene as I wrote.

Two: I know, there's a Jake. Trust me.

Three: Yes, I know you still don't know why Bella was in jail. Trust me. I don't write stuff that hurts (99% of the time), and this is not one of those times.

See you next Friday!


	3. Chapter 3

_No copyright infringement intended. Twilight is not mine._

 _Early chapter, yay!_

 _Sarcastic Bimbo betas and finds the best memes out there. I tinker, so any mistakes are mine._

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

 **EDWARD**

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Bella's eyes go wide, and she gasps. "Shit, I can't believe I forgot about Jake!"

"Who's Jake?" There's a bitter, jealous tightening in my chest. Who is this Jake asshole, and why wasn't he there to help Bella out last night? Not that I regret being the one to come to her rescue. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, because it's second nature. Emmett and I have looked out for her since she was in grade school, and I won't stop now. Emmett would kick my ass. _I_ would kick my ass.

"My dog," she answers with a sigh.

Relief washes over me, and I try not to think too hard about why that is.

"Can you drop me off at the pound? I've got to pick him up, and I'm hoping my truck is still there."

I glance over and find her watching me with pleading eyes. "Sure. Got an address?"

She maps out the address on her phone and sets the route. The robot lady speaks, and we're on our way.

As if I'd say no. I'll do anything for this girl; she's practically my sister.

Except, there's nothing brotherly about what I feel where she's concerned.

I come to a red light and take the opportunity to ogle her while she's organizing her stuff. "Why is your dog at the pound?"

She looks up and catches me, a smirk curling one side of her mouth. Then her expression falls, and she makes a pained face.

"Because that's where I got arrested."

"What?" She's fucking with me. Has to be.

"Shut up. I know you heard me." She stubbornly stares straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact.

A horn blares behind me and I take off, embarrassed to have been caught lingering at a green light like an asshole. However, I'm not going to let a little vehicular shame keep me from getting the rest of the story. Thank you, Paul Harvey.

"Okay, I'll bite. How in the hell did you get arrested at the dog pound?"

"Did you hear my eyes roll, right there? Because you should've. They almost fell down into my cranium. Terrible pun, by the way."

I cover my mouth with a hand so she doesn't see me grin. "'Cranium.' Impressive anatomical vocabulary, Bella."

"I aim to please you," she shoots back.

My whole body goes up in flames, because my dick takes that comment very literally. He would love for her to please him. And _I_ would love it very, very much.

Ignoring my unruly body, I attempt to pry the details out of Bella, yet again. "It would please me to hear the whole story. How did you get arrested at the dog pound?"

She sighs loudly, and I can see her chewing on a fingernail in my peripheral vision. This has got to be good, but only if I can get her to spill. I decide to go with what's always worked in the past—teasing. Bella and I have a long history of yanking each other's chains.

There goes my dick again. He's really reaching with that one. Fuck, I've got to get this out of my system. Bella and I will never happen. It shouldn't happen, because who does that? Who goes after his best friend's baby sister? I won't be that guy.

Newly resolved, I try again. "So … by dog pound, do you mean the Dogg Pound? Please tell me you got arrested for smoking weed with Snoop Dogg. That would be amazing."

That draws a little laugh out of her, in spite of her obvious embarrassment. "Sorry, it's not that awesome. Weed is legal here now. Also, I thought Snoop changed his name to Snoop Lion or something."

I laughed and shook my head. "He did, but it didn't last long. He's back to his old ways, smokin' indo and sippin' on gin and juice."

She smirks and returns, "With his mind on his money and his money on his mind?"

Stuck at another red light, I sneak a glance at her profile. Her smile is a little more relaxed, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. The flush goes all the way down to her collarbones, where it disappears beneath her shirt. My mouth goes dry as I picture just how far it might go.

Realizing there's not a whole lot of room for movement in my jeans, I force myself to focus on the intersection in front us, and berate myself internally. How would I explain it to Emmett if I was in an accident because I was too distracted by imagining what Bella looks like topless?

An awkward silence fills the car. Bella fiddles with her seatbelt strap and stares out the windshield as the light turns green, and I begin the trek to the next stoplight.

"Come on. You can tell me. I'm sworn to secrecy," I promise.

Her head whips over. "You promise you won't tell Emmett?"

"Of course I promise." I won't sell her out like that. As long as it's not anything truly dangerous.

We come to a stop again. Jesus, I hate traffic... but damn if I'm not thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to look at her. I stretch my arm across the console, holding out my hand for her to shake.

With a serious expression, she takes my hand in a firm grip. I can tell she's trying to intimidate me into keeping my promise, but her small hand can't get much leverage on my larger one. She stares down at our joined hands, and that blush appears again.

It seems I'm not the only one affected, here. The knowledge is a double-edged sword: it's nice to know she's attracted to me, but it cuts deep that we can't do anything about it.

A horn sounds behind us, startling Bella into jerking her hand out of mine.

Fuck! Twice in one trip. I push a little too hard on the gas, and the car lurches ahead, forcing us back into the bucket seats.

"Sorry about that," I mumble, wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Women don't affect me like this. Not normally—but nothing about Bella has ever been anything as boring as normal. It intrigues the hell out of me. Always has.

Her voice, when it comes, knocks me out of my disconcerting thoughts.

"Jake likes to jump," she says quietly. "And dig. And climb. Basically anything that will get him out of the back yard. Over the fence, under it, through it ... you get the picture."

I frown. "Sounds like a lot of trouble." I can't imagine having to take care of a pet. I can barely feed and water myself at times.

She shrugs, smiling fondly in spite of her pet's negative qualities. "Other than that stuff, he's the best dog on the planet. Smartest, too. Unfortunately, he's also the best at escaping."

"Maybe you should have named him Houdini." I shoot her a quirky grin.

"Maybe." She sighs. "The dog catcher hates him. And me."

My brows go up. "Dog catcher is a real job?" I thought they only existed in old cartoons and TV shows.

She snorted. "Apparently. She's picked him up four times now. She's got it out for him."

"So … that still doesn't explain how you got arrested." I stop at yet another red light, but I'm grateful for the delay. We're getting close to our destination, and I'm afraid she's going to bolt as soon as we get to the shelter.

"Like I said, he's been locked up three times before this. The fee to get Jake back is $150 every time." Bella scowled. "This last time, she saw me running down the block after him, screaming 'Wait! That's my dog!' The bitch just locked him in the back of her truck and left me standing in the middle of the street with a leash dangling from my fist." She half-smiles. "I gave her the old Emmett Double Salute."

Laughing out loud, I say, "I had no idea you could get arrested for flipping off the dog catcher."

"You can't," she said flatly. "It's what I did afterward that got me arrested."

She looks so uncomfortable, I'm afraid she might just jump out of the car. I hit the locks again, just to remind her she can't escape me without spilling the whole story.

"Keep going—you can't stop there."

Finally, she blurts out, "I got arrested for trespassing."

Puzzled, I ask, "What's that got to do with your dog?"

"I was trying to get Jake out. When the shelter is full, they leave stray dogs in the outside runs. I saw him out there when I pulled up. No one was out there, and the kennel was unlocked," she babbled, coming to an abrupt stop. "So … I just opened the door and let him out."

We pull up to the shelter and I ease the car into park, turning toward her in my seat. "You busted him out?"

She laughs a little, but the flush of her cheeks and the set of her shoulders tell me it's only out of embarrassment. "Yep."

"So, you're telling me you _stole_ your own dog?"

"Yes!" she hisses.

I can't help it; I crack up laughing. I haven't laughed this hard in a long time. "How is that possible?" I manage through my laughter.

Bella shoots me a dirty look as she jerks open the car door. I grin. Damn, she's fucking cute when she's pissed.

"Thanks for the ride, Edward. I'll see you around."

"Wait!" I scramble out of the car after her. "What if your truck isn't here?"

She falters, scanning the parking lot. Her shoulders slump. "Dammit!" She throws up her hands. "Great, now I'll have to pay a fee to spring my truck, too!"

"Well, let's go get Jake, then. I can give you two a ride to the impound lot." Belatedly, I realize I've offered to let a _dog_ into my car. I wince at the thought of slobber and fur and claws all over my pristine seats. Maybe it's one of those dogs that don't shed—some kind of hypoallergenic frou-frou fluffball that she carries around in her purse. I mentally cross my fingers.

"I'm so sorry about this. Are you sure?"

"Positive," I return with a grin, trying to cover up my dog-in-car apprehension. I exit the car and come around to get her. "Come on. Introduce me to the guy you're willing to get arrested for." I throw an arm around her shoulders as we walk across the lot. It's friendly. Brotherly, even—but I can't get my mind off how good her body feels tucked next to mine. I awkwardly let my arm drop as we reach the shelter doors.

Bella stiffens as we catch sight of the sign: CLOSED. "Shit. It's closed? Damn it!"

"Looks like it is." I realize my observation is a mistake when she gives me a death glare, but I'm still flooded with relief at the fact that there won't be a dog in my car today.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Okay, so we can get Jake tomorrow," I offer. Anything to get back in her good graces. Even clean dog hair out of my car.

"As long as I can get my truck out of impound, you won't have to worry."

"Worry? About what?"

"Having a dog in your car," she says wryly.

"Huh?" I grunt, like an idiot.

"I know you, Edward. You were shitting your pants over having Jake in your precious car."

"I was not." I totally was.

"You totally were."

God, can she read my mind?

I scramble to convince her I'm not a materialistic asshole.

"I let you in my car after a night in jail. A dog is nothing after that." Oh, shit, why did that just come out of my mouth?

Why, when it does the exact opposite of what I'm trying to accomplish? Because I'm an idiot around this girl. As usual.

"What did you just say?" Bella's voice is deadly quiet. Like a chunk of sodium dropped in a vat of water—deceptively hushed, until everything explodes in your face.

"Ah … of course, I'd love to have Jake in my car?" I know it'll never work, but a guy has to try.

"Try again, asshole."

Oh, how that sentence takes me back. Emmett and I must've heard it a million times growing up. We really were little shits to her a lot of the time. It's a wonder she still likes us.

"Okay … you look lovely, for someone who spent the night in jail?"

Her scowl lessens. "You're lucky I'm too tired to kick you in the junk."

 _Please, don't. My junk likes you._

I've got to stop thinking like this, but I don't know how. Or if I really want to anyway.

\- -x- -

When we reach the impound lot, it's there in big black letters: CLOSED ON SUNDAYS.

The fenced lot is padlocked within an inch of its life, and razor-wire sits atop the chain-link fence. It looks like a prison for cars.

"You've got to be kidding me," Bella groans, actually face-palming herself as we come to a stop in front of the locked gate. "Of course. Everything in government is closed on Sundays," she mutters.

"I'd avoid the casinos if I were you." I don't know why I antagonize her so, but I can't stop. It's ingrained in my very being. I put the car in park so I can angle my body toward hers.

"This isn't funny, Edward."

I think I see her lips tremble, and instantly feel bad. "Hey, Bella, I'm sorry, kid—"

"Don't call me that." she snaps.

I shut my mouth, not knowing what to say, but she fills the silence.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. You're being so nice to me—carting me around all over the city today."

"Where else would I be?" There's certainly no other person on the planet I'd rather pick up from jail.

Truthfully, I'm not sure how to treat this older version of the sweet little kid I used to know, so I fall back on old patterns—teasing her. Back when we were all younger, I spent many family dinners with the Swans. Sarcasm is a sport in that family, and they spend much of their time teasing each other relentlessly. Bella's always been a good target; her reactions never disappoint anyone. Riling her up was—and still is—a favorite pastime of Emmett's, and as his friend, I joined in. Now, it's different. I still enjoy provoking this girl, but now it seems a lot more dangerous than it did to my younger self. Now, I want to rile her up ... and then get her naked.

I'm too old for her. She's twenty three—not even out of college, and I'm thirty-one. Then again, she is in graduate school. It's not like she's a freshman.

However, she's Emmett's sister, which is all the reason I need to stop thinking like this.

Bella gives me a sheepish smile, unaware of the tornado of thoughts running through my brain. "Well, I'm glad you're here. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

"You'd probably still be in jail," I joke.

She laughs, which lightens both my heart and my conscience. I like making her feel better. More importantly, I care how she feels, what she thinks. She's one of the few people in this world who can claim those attributes.

"True. I'd stay there for at least another night before I called Emmett or Dad."

"You wouldn't call Renée?"

She snorts. "Come on. You know she can't keep a secret. Dad and Emmett would be down there in a heartbeat with their judge-y stares and 'I'm so disappointed in you's'."

"And their open wallets," I remind her.

"Not worth it. The lectures … the ridicule."

She says the last word with a sour face.

"What makes you think you won't get that with me?"

Laughing again, she says, "You're not nearly as bad as those two."

"I can try," I offer, though I don't mean it. Which I suspect she knows.

"Please, don't." She looks out the windshield and sighs. "Would you mind driving me home? It's not too far from here."

I'm not ready to let her go just yet. These last couple hours with her have been more fun than anything I can remember for a long time. I'm glad for the excuse to keep her with me a little longer… but I want more.

"Would you like to have lunch first? My breakfast consisted of Gatorade and Advil. I imagine jailhouse fare isn't much better."

"Gatorade and Advil? Sounds like my entire freshman year," she muses.

It better not have been her entire freshman year. Especially if she was as big an idiot as I was last night.

"Partied hard last night, Edward?" She leans closer, inspecting my eyes for redness, gently prodding underneath. "Look at those circles! Yep, I'd say you had a few too many," she surmises, and sinks back into her seat.

She doesn't have to look so satisfied with herself. I'm older than her; of course my bender shows on my face. My body doesn't bounce back from binge drinking like it did when I was her age.

"You could say that. Hence the Gatorade and Advil, and why I need real food. Are you in?"

"The jail food was horrible." She shudders. "They gave us a bologna sandwich. For breakfast! Oh, and some Tang that they probably got when they retired all the space shuttles."

I chuckle and cringe at the same time. "That's pretty awful. Does Tang go bad, though?"

She pauses, making a cute little scrunch between her eyebrows. "Probably not. All the sugar and preservatives … if I was a Prepper, I'd stockpile it for the zombie apocalypse."

"Good. I'll add it to my stash," I deadpan.

"You do not have a stash." She looks at me like I'm crazy.

I am, just not in the way she thinks. I'm crazy for thinking about her the way I do. Like she's someone even remotely available to me.

"I had to try," I admit, grinning. "Anyway, I think we've established our lack of a proper breakfast. Come have lunch with me. My treat.

She smirks, considering my offer. "Okay, lunch. But I'm buying, since you literally bailed me out of jail an hour ago."

"No can do. You've got to get your dog and your truck out of hock tomorrow. I'm buying." If I have anything to say about it, I'm paying for the other stuff, too. Getting a vehicle out of impound is ridiculously expensive. Personal experience. Fucking parking tickets.

Huffing a breath, she grumbles, "Stubborn man."

"I'll take that as a yes." I straighten in my seat and shift the transmission into drive.

"Wait!"

"I'm not letting you pay, Bella."

"Not that. I need to change first. And shower." She sniffs her sweatshirt. "I smell like prison."

"I didn't know prison had a smell."

"Me neither, but it's bologna and desperation. Oh, and stale beer. I think they had me in the drunk tank."

I crack up. "That's gross. Let's get you showered, then."

\- -x- -

Sitting in Bella's living room, knowing she's just a few walls away, naked, fucks with my head, big time. Both of them. While she's getting ready, I consider using the restroom to relieve myself, but nix that idea when I realize she's in the only bathroom in the apartment—which makes my problem worse, because my dick's most fervent wish is to be in there with her. By the time she comes out of her bedroom, dressed in tight jeans and a loose gray sweater, hair thrown up in some kind of messy knot, I'm a ball of nervous guilt and sexual tension.

"Ready?" Her smile is bright, and so damn beautiful, and I hope she doesn't notice the way I practically eye-fuck her.

I shove back the desire to kiss the shit out of her and rise from the couch, nodding. "Do you have a place in mind? Most places I know are really close to the hospital."

She pouts. "Don't want me to meet your friends?"

I can tell she's joking, but I feel the need to explain myself anyway. "More like I eat at those places more than once a week, and I'd like some variety."

"Sure, Edward. I get it. Probably smart to keep me away. I know things."

"What things?"

"Emmett told me all about your crush on Mrs. Goff when you two were in eighth grade."

I scoff. "I'm not the only kid to have a crush on his teacher."

"But you might be the only one who got caught leaving a rose on her front porch—by her husband—at two in the morning!"

I sigh, knowing where this is heading. I'm going to kill her motherfucking brother.

"But the note—the note tied to that rose was the kicker:

 _Dearest Teresa_

 _be my one true beloved_

 _my señorita._

You wrote her a haiku!"

Tears of laughter leak out of the corners of her eyes, and I wonder how she's kept from using this against me for so long. She must have an enormous amount of willpower.

"Are you done laughing yet?" I ask flatly, because I have no excuses. Eighth grade me was a supreme dork. I own my mistakes, and that one just proves I'm determined and somewhat resourceful, if not exactly stealthy.

She wipes a tear from her eye. "Oh, Edward. I'll never be done laughing at you."

I raise a brow and gesture toward the door. "Come on. You can laugh at me in the car, then."

.

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* * *

 _True story: my dad was arrested for stealing his own dog. My mom left him in jail overnight, LOL. The crime went down pretty much like Bella said, except for chasing the dog catcher down the street. I like to embellish._

 _So, Jake's a dog. And Bella stole him. Better than some of the scenarios you all were thinking, right? I hope so._

 _Thanks for reading. 3_


	4. Chapter 4

This silly plot is mine. Twilight is not.

Thank you for all your reviews and support for this story.

Sarcastic Bimbo betas, but I fiddle with it afterwards. Mistakes are mine.

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CHAPTER FOUR — BELLA

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We end up at a diner near my apartment, one that serves all-day breakfast. We both definitely need a good dose of pancakes. Edward devours a short stack, plus a plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon. I'm impressed. I've only ever seen Emmett eat that much.

"Did you go to a kegger last night or what? You're eating like a frat boy the day after a house party," I tease, pointing at his nearly empty plate with my fork. I'm about three-quarters through my own short stack of banana pancakes, and flagging rapidly. At this rate, I'll be ready for a pancake nap in about fifteen minutes.

Chuckling, he answers, "Are you accusing me of eating like Emmett?"

"If the fork fits," I return, eating another bite of pancake even though I know it's a mistake. But it's so damn good.

"Sometimes I don't get much time to eat on shift. Yesterday was one of those days."

His explanation makes me want to pack food for him to take to the hospital. Neither he nor Emmett ever cook much (that I know of), so I know he probably lives on a diet of takeout and vending machine offerings. I have this strange urge to feed him and send him off to work with a sack lunch.

"You want the rest of my pancakes?" I offer, though I'm sure there's room in my stomach somewhere. There's always room for pancakes. They're like Jell-O, but instead of _being_ jiggly, pancakes _make_ you jiggly.

"No thanks; I know better than to get between you and your breakfast food," he says with a grin.

"About time you learned."

"I think I learned that lesson when you beat me with your tennis shoe over a cherry Pop-Tart."

"Those are my favorite," I protest.

I was fifteen and PMS-ing. In that instance, it's perfectly reasonable to beat someone with a shoe over food. In fact, I might do the same as an adult, depending on the food and the time of the month.

He rubs his arm, as if there's a phantom pain. "Believe me, I know. It hurt like a bitch. I'll never forget the image of you swinging that thing by those long-ass shoelaces."

I grin and hold my hands up in peace. "I'm not going to eat it," I assure him. "Really, you're welcome to it. I won't beat you with my purse, or my shoes."

Shaking his head, he smiles and leans back against the booth. "I'm good. Thank you, though.

The waitress comes by and offers more coffee, which we both eagerly accept. Dishes are cleared, but we both linger over steaming mugs of strong, surprisingly good coffee.

"You have one more semester, right?" Edward asks, when the topic turns to my career plans.

I nod, grinning in excitement. "I've already picked a thesis subject, so I'll start outlining and do some work on it over the summer. I'll also be a TA in a couple classes."

"So you've got the summer off?"

"Yeah. I might substitute teach before the kids are out of school. It's good practice."

"Little kids or big kids?" he asks, grinning.

Laughing, I answer, "Little kids. Big kids are too much trouble." I give him a pointed look.

"I'm not a kid." His face, however, has the mischief of one.

"Emmett is. He's a giant man-child. You were, too, when you guys were teenagers."

Sometimes, I swear my brother will never grow up. When he's around me, that is. I have no idea how he manages to pry confessions out of hardened criminals. He used to tickle them out of me, but I'm sure that's frowned upon in the justice system. While Detective Swan is a badass, big brother Emmett is a big, annoying teddy bear.

"Come on. I wasn't as bad."

"You guys were still throwing night crawlers at me when you were eighteen," I say flatly, "even though I'd started feeling sorry for them instead of being afraid of them."

He winces. "Oh. I do remember that."

I tap my temple. "Memory like an elephant's, remember?"

He smiles that crinkly-eyed smile I love as he laughs. If I could have three wishes, seeing that smile every day would be one of them.

The waitress comes by with the check. Edward picks it up before I get the chance, and I shoot him a dirty look as he slides a credit card into the little black folio.

"Don't even start, Bella. You've got bills to pay, jailbird."

Okay, so that grin is a little less awesome when it accompanies one of his smart-ass remarks. "You paid my bail fee. Can't I at least buy you lunch?"

"Nope." He shakes his head, looking smug.

"Why not?"

"I offered to take you to lunch. It's my treat."

"So if I ask _you_ to lunch, I can pay?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because." He says it just like a smart-ass teenager would.

I laugh loudly. "See what I mean?" Pointing at him, I affirm, "man-child."

Despite the fact I've just insulted him, he looks entirely too satisfied with himself when the server comes by to pick up the check.

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-x-

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I decide to bake Edward some cookies as a thank you. Without my truck, I have to walk to the grocery store for some of the ingredients, but there aren't better cookies on the planet than my Sea Salt Chocolate Chip cookies, so the trip will be worth it. My brother's girlfriend, Rose, even uses the recipe at the bakery she just opened up here in Queen Anne. They sell out every day.

When he shows up the next morning to give me a ride, his face lights up when I hand him the container filled with two dozen cookies. He devours four of them in a row, and the noises he makes are downright sexual. Is it getting hot in this car, or is it just me?

I crack the window to let in a little cool air.

It's all I can do to keep from moaning as I watch him lick crumbs from his lower lip. God, when did I turn into such a pervert? But I'm never going back. If I can't ogle the hottest guy I know, then who else can I objectify? Why is my stupid teenage crush so much stronger now? Is it the vibes I'm getting? The ones that indicate he might feel the same way? Does he finally see me as a woman and not just Emmett's little sister? It sure seemed that way when he raked that gaze all over me back at my apartment. The hand he rested on the small of my back as we left the diner didn't feel brotherly, either.

I don't know what to think—except I'm loving seeing Edward this much, and I don't want it to stop. I don't want to go back to seeing him whenever I happen to run into him and Emmett somewhere. I like spending time with just the two of us. It's easy, and fun, and brings a new element to our relationship that wasn't there before.

We hit up the shelter first, since it's on the way to the impound lot. I can tell Edward isn't exactly excited about letting Jake into his car, but he's gracious about it. I have to cover up a laugh when he spreads a silver emergency blanket across his tiny backseat. Jake's claws are going to tear that up in no time.

Once he's convinced his car is as protected as it can get, we head inside and retrieve Jake. Before I can get him, I'm reminded to pay my ticket for Dog At Large within thirty days. I assure the shelter worker it's not a problem, reminding myself not to take it out on the poor girl; she just works here. Surreptitiously, I look around for the dog catcher bitch. I'd love to beat _her_ with a shoe.

Jake comes around the corner, pulling at the leash, claws scrabbling on the linoleum, barking when he sees me. I crouch down to his level and the shelter girl lets go of the leash. He practically knocks me over when he plants his paws on my shoulders and licks all over my face. He's barely thirty-five pounds, but what he lacks in mass, he makes up for in energy.

"He's… enthusiastic," Edward says, amused.

I peer up at the sweet smile on his face and reply, "He's a girl's best friend."

When Jake and I are finished greeting one another, there's black and white fur all over my sweater and jeans, but I don't even care. I finally get to my feet and grab the temporary leash.

"Let's get out of here."

"Of course." Edward's grin is less than eager. If a smile could look worried, this would be it.

Within a mile, Jake has managed to wad up the emergency blanket. My sweet border collie mix is stretched out on the bare leather, looking at us innocently, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth as he pants in excitement. There's already hair all over the seat and floorboards. He's even better at shedding than he is at escaping.

"Sorry about that. I can come and vacuum it out if you want."

"Don't worry about it. Now, if he scratches up my seats, he and I will have words," he says with a more easygoing smile. He was looking pretty constipated when we first put Jake in the car. "I'm glad he's not one of those yippy-yappy little things. I was afraid you had a purse dog."

I burst out laughing. "No way. I'm never going to have a dog you can dress like a Barbie doll."

"Me neither. If I ever get a dog. I don't have a lot of time for a pet." He looks a bit sad.

"Well, if you need a pet fix, you know where to go. I'll let you walk him," I say with a smirk. We'll see if he can keep up with the little monster.

"I'll let you know," he laughs, grinning at me as he stops at a light.

We watch each other for a long moment, smiles slowly fading until he looks away, clearing his throat. I have no idea what that was about, and it leaves me feeling awkward as the light turns green. We're silent until we're almost to the impound lot.

"Thanks for the cookies," he says, finally breaking up the uncomfortable silence. "I think I was too busy eating them to thank you before."

"I'll bake them for you anytime." I mean it. I'd love any excuse to see him. Even better if I can bring him some food. They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, right?

Edward waits outside with Jake while I go inside to pay the impound fee. An empty savings account later, I head back outside with an attendant, who leads the three of us to the prison-like gates we saw yesterday. The attendant punches some numbers into a keypad, and the gates roll open, the rusty metal creaking and clanging. After giving me the aisle number, the sullen-looking government employee leaves Edward and me standing in the midst of about a thousand impounded cars.

I turn to Edward, feeling a little sad that our adventure has come to an end. "Thanks for all your help," I say with a grateful smile. "Jake and I have got it from here."

"Are you kidding me?" he asks, as if he can't believe what he's heard. "I'm not leaving you in the middle of this."

With that, he puts a hand on the small of my back—again—and helps me search for my rusty red monster truck, which takes us over an hour to find. The attendant must've given us the wrong aisle number. Whether it was on purpose of not is debatable. Relieved, we all hop into the truck, and I drive Edward back to his car.

"I'll call you as soon as I can get that bail money together," I tell him as he leans against the driver's side door to say goodbye. "I might have to sell a kidney on CraigsList, but I'll get it."

He blanches. "Bella, don't worry about it. I know you're good for it."

"I'm kidding, Edward. I just need to wait for my check from school. I'm a TA, remember? I only get paid once a month, though."

Visibly relieved, he grins. I never knew he was so gullible. I'll keep it in mind for future use.

"Like I said: don't worry about the money. Pay me when you can."

Jake barks, as if he agrees.

"I'll see you later, Bud," he says, reaching past me to pat Jake on the head.

I catch a whiff of his scent and have to make a concerted effort not to moan, grab his arm, and blatantly sniff him. When he's done saying goodbye to my dog, we stare at each other, and it's just like earlier—awkward and heavy. I wish I knew what he's thinking.

"I'll see you soon," I finally offer, with what I hope is a bright smile. "Thank you again. You really helped me out of a jam." God, I sound like a character from an old sitcom.

What comes out of his mouth next has me convinced we share parts of the same brain.

"No problem there, Beav," he says in a TV announcer voice, and then goes pink.

Because while he totally got the old sitcom vibe, Beav has a completely different connotation in 2017.

I start to giggle, which escalates into full-blown laughter, and he joins in.

"Anyway," I say once I can speak, "I'll call you when I've got the money.

"Sure." He pats the door and backs away, offering a flat-handed wave that looks sort of like a salute.

I wave back and smile.

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-x-

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A week goes by, and I don't hear from him. I don't know why I expected to, since I don't have his money yet, but I thought he enjoyed the time we spent together, and might want to do it again, for non jail-related reasons. I check my phone excessively, then get unreasonably nervous and excited when it rings. But when it does, it's never him. I'm not sure why I'm so weird about it; I didn't contact him, either, so maybe it's my own fault, too. Then I start to wonder: did I imagine those looks? Those touches? The sexy smiles I can't get out of my head?

To me, it seems like he's dropped off the face of the earth. No texts, no calls, not even any Facebook memes.

It pisses me off, even though I know I'm being irrational. I can solve the whole problem with one text, one call, but I won't because I want him to make the first move? I'm insane, that's the only explanation.

I need outside input, and the only person I trust for that is Angela. We were roommates freshman year and have been best friends ever since; she's a vault when it comes to secrets. It goes both ways—there's a lot a college girl needs to hide from her pastor father.

She comes over with a six pack, all business, even though it's just after noon. "What's up?"

Over bottles of Blue Moon, I fill her in on the whole jail fiasco and everything Edward related.

"How the hell do I not know about any of this? It's been a week. A week, Bella! You've been holding out." Angela scowls, and I know I'm in trouble.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I had to call Edward because he's the only person I know with enough money to bail me out."

"I would've bailed you out," Angela says, indignant.

"I know you would've. I didn't want you to be broke for the rest of the month." Angela is a TA like me, and we don't exactly make a living wage.

"So you called your brother's best friend." She crosses her arms over her chest. "The one you've had a crush on forever." She pauses for a moment, staring me down. "Good move," she finally says.

"You think? I'm not sure it paid off. He's ghosting me." I frown, wishing he'd at least text. We're friends, right? We have been for a long time. Friends text. Friends call. Ugh, this is driving me nuts.

"It's too soon to tell," she muses. "But I think you can still make this happen. You just have to pretend it's no big deal. When you do see him, act like nothing's wrong."

"Why?"

"One, it makes you look laid back. Two, it might irritate him that you're not wondering why he hasn't called, which will force him to acknowledge his feelings for you."

"Wow. You're good." She's diabolical, is what she is, and it's one of the reasons I love her.

"I know," she says, obviously pleased. "But next time, you'd better not hold out on the good stuff. Especially if you get a piece of that. He's one good-looking dude."

I smirk. "Angela. What would Ben say?" Her new boyfriend isn't exactly a homely guy himself.

"The same thing. He's bi."

My eyes bug out. "Now who's keeping things out of the loop!"

She shrugs. "I just found out a couple days ago. Caught him looking at some interesting porn." Sighing, her gaze goes all dreamy. "It was a good day."

"Tell me more," I beg.

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-x-

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Imagine my surprise when I show up at my brother's place for dinner the following Saturday, and find Edward there, along with my cousin, Jasper, and his wife, Alice. He looks just as shocked to see me, and when those lush green eyes meet mine, I have a hard time tearing my gaze away.

Emmett greets me with a hug, breaking my eye-lock with Edward. "Hey, Bells. Edward's joining us for dinner. More the merrier, right?" He waggles his eyebrows and I can just tell … he's about to launch into his Hannibal Lecter impression.

"Don't bother, Em. I forgot the Chianti," I say as he releases me, physically setting me back on my feet.

"You're no fun," Emmett laughs, drawing me into the room. "I do love a good piece of liver, though." He rubs his belly.

While everyone else laughs or groans in disgust, I try to catch Edward's eye again, but he seems determined not to acknowledge me. My feelings are hurt, and all the hopes I had after I left him at the impound lot are crushed all over again, but this time, I'm determined. I won't be passive any longer.

I'll show him. Tonight. He feels something for me, I know it.

Making him act on those feelings has just become my number one goal.

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* * *

 _Will she break him? How long do you think it'll take?_

 _Edward is up next. I'm aiming for Thursday. See you then!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Edward and Bella are not mine. Damn it._

 _Thank you for all the reviews! I love love love reading them in between chasing the minions._

 _Sarcastic Bimbo betas, then I mess with it. Any mistakes are mine._

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIVE—EDWARD**

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 **.**

 **.**

Bella walks through Emmett's door dressed in complete sin. I blink just to make sure she's not some kind of mirage, and have to remind myself not to let my jaw hang open. Her midnight-colored dress clings to every curve, yet covers enough skin to be considered demure by today's standards. The skirt falls a few inches above her knees, revealing the sexiest legs I've ever seen.

Every cell in my body wants to go to her, but I stand rooted to the spot, afraid Emmett will see right through me if I do. Though I try, I can barely keep up with the conversation now that Bella is in the room. She's still near the door, chatting with Alice and Rose, completely ignoring me, which I rightly deserve.

After spending so much time with her last week, I panicked. We had such a great time last weekend, and I've been thinking about her just about every waking moment since then. It's been hard to concentrate on anything but her—at any given time, I wonder what she's doing, if she's happy, what she'd think about this or that. I think about her at night, too. Talk about hard. Pun intended.

I know I can't act on these feelings, even if they're becoming more insistent by the day. Instead of thinking of her as family, somewhere along the way I started thinking of her as mine. Or, at least I've acknowledged that I'd like her to be, but Emmett will rearrange my face if he finds out what I'm thinking about his baby sister. He knows me better than anyone else, and that includes my track record with women, which is more like a sprint than a distance race. The few relationships I've had time for have been short and fast-paced, if you know what I mean. I know he won't tolerate me sniffing around Bella in any sort of romantic way.

So I stayed away. I haven't called, haven't texted. Haven't posted any memes on her FB wall.

And I'm miserable.

.

-x-

.

Does she know her knee is touching mine?

It's on a loop in my brain.

Everyone is seated rather closely, the six of us crowded around a table likely meant for four. It's difficult to cut an overcooked steak with little elbow room. Though, my right arm keeps brushing against Bella's left, which is a bonus. I'm enjoying it far too much.

She keeps sneaking glances at me when she thinks I'm not looking, but I'm always looking.

By the time dessert is served, I know she's trying to kill me. She shifts, grazing her whole leg against mine. I have to bite back an audible groan, and I've got an erection that gives new meaning to the term "hard as a rock." A little smile plays at her lips, but nothing else suggests she's noticed the contact. The whole time, she talks animatedly with Alice, outwardly ignoring me while tormenting me under the table.

She's playing with me, but I'm a masochist. I enjoy her sweet torture more than I wish to admit.

This woman's got my guts in knots, not to mention the situation in my damn pants. Standing up won't be possible anytime soon, unless I want everyone to know just how much I like Bella. I'll be amazed if I make it out of this dinner in one piece. Or at least without getting punched for ogling her.

As dinner winds down, Emmett sits back in his seat with a satisfied grin. "Now that we've wooed you with red meat and alcohol, it's time for the catch. There's a reason Rosie and I asked you to dinner tonight."

Rose grins as she waves around her left hand, which is suddenly adorned by a huge diamond. "We're engaged!"

"That's awesome, guys! Congratulations," Alice says, grinning happily.

Jasper asks, "How did you hide that rock from us?"

"It was in my pocket," Rose explains with a smug grin.

"It's really pretty," Bella offers with a sweet smile. "If I got to pick anyone to be my sister, it would be you, Rose. You're pretty great, even though you picked this gorilla to marry."

Emmett gives her a fake dark look.

"Hey! What about me?" Alice laughs.

"You're my only cousin's wife. We're practically sisters anyway," Bella reasons.

"Hmpf. Okay," teases Alice, while Jasper nods convincingly.

Rose jumps in, demonstrating why she and Bella get along so well. They're both sarcastic as hell. "Thanks, Bella. I love you, too."

Bella blows her a kiss across the table.

"Where's mine?" Emmett demands, making a kissy face at Bella. Rose grabs his face and plants a noisy peck on his mouth.

Bella points. "There you go."

Almost too late, I realize I haven't been an active participant in the conversation. "Really, congrats, guys. Rose, you're too good for him. Emmett, thanks for not asking me to help you pick out the ring."

Everyone laughs, and I'm off the hook.

"I picked out the ring," Rose admits, looking down at the huge hunk of ice on her finger.

No wonder it's so big.

Bella slips out of the room and I watch her leave. More like, I stare at her ass and hope Emmett doesn't notice. She returns with half a pitcher of margaritas and refills everyone's glass. We all toast the happy couple, and I take a healthy swig of margarita, barely keeping myself from spitting it out when Bella's thigh presses against mine.

Rose sets her glass down with a clink and grins. "Now that the cat's out of the bag, we have a request."

"We'd like you all to be in the wedding. We're not going to do the traditional Best Man/Maid of Honor thing. We don't want to piss anyone off," Emmett explains.

"Oh, please. Like I give a shit about pissing anyone off," Rose adds, rolling her eyes.

Emmett throws his head back and laughs. "I was trying to be tactful."

Bella snorts at this and I cough to cover my laughter. Emmett and tact are at opposite ends of the behavior spectrum.

"Good thing I'm not marrying you for your charm, Babe." Emmett leans over and plants a smacking kiss on his fiancée's lips.

"I'm just saying, why single anyone out? Anyway, you can plan all the party shit together." Rose holds up last of the pitcher and swirls the neon green contents. "Who wants it?"

Bella immediately shoves her glass at Rose, who dumps the rest of the margaritas into the offered cup. To my amazement and dismay, none of it lands on the table.

I think Bella's a little buzzed. Her cheeks glow pink as she giggles a bit too loudly. It's adorable—and sexy. But if she gets any more liquid courage in her, I won't survive it. While Bella's not looking, I switch her glass with my empty one and down the margarita in one gulp.

Emmett raises a questioning brow. I mime drinking from a bottle and point to Bella before pretending to sway in my seat.

"Hey!" Bella cries, "He stole my margarita," which causes everyone to laugh.

"I think you've had enough, sis," Emmett laughs, sipping his own drink. "There will be plenty of time to get trashed at the party." His grin is practically maniacal. It makes me wonder how trashed he's planning on getting.

"We thought it would be cool to have a joint Bachelor/Bachelorette party. We all have more fun when we're together, so why not do it up right?" Rose looks almost as excited as Emmett.

"So what should we do? When do we need to start arranging things?" asks Bella.

"We want a quick engagement, and I snapped up a cancellation at the Fairmont," Rose says excitedly. "The wedding's in two months."

"Wow. That's quick. Have you told Mom and Dad?" Bella asks Emmett.

"Last night. Mom is a little irked it's such short notice, but they're both pretty happy."

"So, what else needs to be done? There's not a lot of time," Bella says with a little frown.

"Don't worry, I've got tons of ideas!" Alice volunteers, her grin about a mile wide. "I love this stuff!"

I can tell Bella is relieved. She never was big into parties.

"Thank God, because I haven't got a clue where to start," she admits.

"Me either," I agree, nudging Bella with my shoulder. I can't help it. I need to touch her.

"That makes three of us," Jasper adds in. "But Ali's in heaven."

"Don't you worry about a thing, guys," Alice gushes, "I've got this."

.

-x-

.

Vegas.

Of course Alice picks Vegas. City of Sin.

As if I need a reminder of sinning. And who I want to sin with. Repeatedly.

I've been sinning with her in my dreams just about every night since I bailed her out of jail.

This can't happen. It can't.

So after the dinner, I ghosted her. Again.

I do everything I can to put her out of my mind. I do all my laundry. Every single piece. I clean out the fridge (which I've haven't done once since I moved in). I pick up extra shifts at the hospital. I even have dinner with my parents, which backfires. My mother attempts, once again, to convince me I need a girlfriend. There's only one girl I can picture in that role, and I can't have her.

All of these attempts to get Bella out of my head, and none of it works. What eats me up inside? She hasn't called me, either. Is she calling my bluff, or does she just not care?

Not like it matters anyway. Contrary to my mother's opinion, I'm not looking for—nor do I need—a girlfriend, and there's no way I can pull a fuck and duck with Bella. I'd never do that to her, and not just because Emmett would kill me so dead they'd never find my body.

If I can hold out, I won't see her until Vegas, which is just a few weeks away.

She'll be out of my head by then.

.

-x-

.

It's only a week before I realize I should never underestimate Alice. She's invaded my inbox, and I can't escape.

.

.

 _ **From: Alice Whitlock**_

 _ **To: Edward Cullen; Bella Swan; Jasper Whitlock**_

 _ **CC: Rose Hale; Emmett Swan**_

 _ **Subject: Epic Vegas Adventure**_

 _Where: Sunday Brunch at 5 Spot_

 _When: Sunday, you idiots. No later than 11 a.m. (Emmett already told me you're off that day, Edward, so no excuses!)_

 _You have homework - pick your favorite club/venue in Vegas. The Strip is preferred. Be prepared to defend your choices! That means you, too, engaged ones!_

 _No RSVP needed, because I KNOW you'll all be there._

 _—Alice_

 _._

 _._

I have to admit: I'm afraid to provoke her wrath. She may be tiny, but she's a little scary. Besides, Bella will be there. I can't pretend I'm not excited.

When Sunday arrives, I'm hung over. In a fruitless effort to forget my growing anticipation over seeing her again, I killed more than a few brain cells last night. At home, alone. What the hell is happening to me?

I look like shit in a wrinkled t-shirt and pair of jeans, but the urge to lie down for as long as humanly possible and still make it to brunch on time won out over looking somewhat put together. My eyes have bags under them and my hair is a mess, but women seem to dig that shit. More importantly, I think Bella digs it. I've seen her staring at it more than once. I'd be fucking lying if I said I don't want her to notice me.

After fighting traffic due to a huge accident on the interstate, I'm the last one to arrive. There's only one more seat—right next to Bella.

It's my lucky day.

Am I rejoicing or is it sarcasm? Not even I'm sure.

I slide into the booth next to her, avoiding her eyes. God, she smells good. Or maybe it's her French toast.

We're all sitting in one of those semi-circular booths, but it's barely big enough for the six of us. Which means I get to sit that much closer to Bella without having to feel guilty about it. I stick around long enough to order coffee and juice, then bolt for the buffet. I'm not sure how well anything is going to go down, but I need a moment to get myself together.

The debate is already underway when I make it back to the table.

Emmett argues for The Spearmint Rhino, but Rose shoots that one down pretty quick. Her pick is some place called Magic Mike, but everyone with testicles squashes that one. Jasper picked a hookah bar, but after he gets a nasty look from his wife, he gives up.

Alice turns to Bella and me. "That leaves you two. And me, of course." She grins innocently.

I'm pretty sure Alice already has the place picked, but I'll play along.

"I don't know much about clubs, but I do have two rules: no Kardashians and no dancing in cages. As long as he doesn't violate the rules, I defer to him." Bella shoots me a smile, which I return automatically.

It's impossible not to smile at this girl.

It's my turn. I've gotta make it good. "I heard about this place," I say after a moment. "It's called the Snakehole Lounge."

I've been binge watching Parks and Rec in the doctors' lounge in my down time. Now's as good as any time to fuck with everyone.

Bella almost chokes on her French toast. Syrup dribbles down her chin as she scrambles for a napkin. I glare at her, silently warning her not to ruin the joke. Then I get distracted by a bead of syrup on her fucking perfect lips. I want to be that syrup. Even better, I want to lick it off.

"That's a cool name, dude," Emmett cuts in. "Sounds good to me!" He's so in on the joke. He's the one who hooked me on the show in the first place. Ron Swanson is his spirit animal.

Bella raises a brow and says, "Oh, I've heard of that place. I think they have their own designer liquor." She tilts her head in my direction. "What's it called?"

My lips twitch. "I think it's called SnakeJuice."

Her grin is blinding. "That's it!"

Alice frowns. "That sounds kind of gross."

"No, man, it sounds awesome!" Jasper cuts in. "I'm in!" He and Alice are completely clueless.

Bella and I are having a difficult time holding in our laughter, while Emmett and Rose look on with amused glances.

"I don't know, guys." Alice looks as if she's been sucking on a lemon wedge.

Then Emmett has to go and ruin the joke. "They're fucking with you, Alice. There's no Snakehole Lounge. It's from a TV show."

Alice rolls her eyes and shrugs. "I wasn't going to pick any of your choices anyway."

Bella shakes her head, amused. "I knew it. You had the place picked out all along."

"Sure did." Alice nods with an unapologetic grin. "I booked the hotel last night."

.

-x-

.

I hold out for two days.

I could blame my weakness on exhaustion after an extra-long shift. I could blame it on my need to focus on anything other than the cold sterility of the hospital and the things that went wrong inside it. I try not to let it get to me, but when it does, I crawl inside my head so far, I get a little lost. It's those times that make me wish I had someone at home, someone who might miss me during those marathon shifts at work, someone to welcome me home.

But ultimately, I know I can't blame my feelings on anyone but myself … and maybe a certain gorgeous brunette.

I hit the shower after work, needing to wash off the last thirty-six hours. But as good as the steaming water feels on my tired body, I'm wired from way too much coffee, and I can't shut off my mind. Naturally, it wanders to Bella.

I wonder what she's doing. Is she sleeping? Just the thought of her curled up in bed, all warm and sleep-flushed, has me instantly hard. I wonder what she sleeps in. Is she one of those t-shirt and panties girls, or does she sleep naked? I actually prefer the clothed approach; it would give me something to peel off of her. There's no fighting it now—my need for her is a rush, taking over more thoroughly than any of the most powerful drugs.

Hard and aching, I give in. It's not the first time I've made do with my own hand when what I really want is Bella's wet little pussy. It's not the first time I've painted the shower tiles with my release, her face behind my closed eyes and her name on my lips, and I know it won't be the last.

Feeling substantially less tense, but exponentially more perverted, I dress in pj's and head for the kitchen. Stomach growling, I gather up some cold pizza and a beer (hey, it may be before noon, but it's the end of my workday), and end up on the couch with another season of _Parks and Rec_ ready to stream. None of it can get my mind off Bella.

I'm screwed. I want to break one of the most sacred rules of the Guy Code—I want to fuck my best friend's little sister.

That damned smart, cute little girl I knew is no more. In her place is a brilliant, beautiful, funny young woman. Her smart mouth makes me laugh, and it's always been one of my most favorite things about her. Only now, instead of amusing me, it turns me on as well. I've been thinking of some very creative alternative uses for that mouth, most of which involve my lips, or, even better, my dick.

All of which is why, when she texts me ( _finally_ ), I do something I know I'll probably regret—I write back.

 **Have you got a minute?**

I shake my head, a smile playing at my lips. **Please don't tell me you're in jail again. And yes, I have many minutes.**

Those three little dots pop up on the screen, and I can't keep the dumbass grin off my face. It grows even bigger when I get her response.

 **No, you ass! I have the money to pay you back the bond fee. I'm at the bank right now. Want to meet somewhere? Lunch is on me.**

Damn. I really don't want to get back out. And I really don't need her money.

But ... just the thought of seeing her again has me buzzing.

I'm dressed in real clothes in less than five minutes, texting Bella on my way out the door; I'll sleep later. Plus, I'm still hungry. For food. Not … other things.

It's one of many little white lies I tell myself to get through each day.

.

.

.

* * *

 _I forgot to mention that I posted my Biggest Dick Ever Contest entry, Fade To Black. I'm sure most of you've read it, but if you haven't and would like to read a bit of canon nonsense, it's on my profile. I won 3rd place in the Judges' scores, so I'm pretty happy about it._

 _I realize this story is a bit of a slow burn, but we're getting there. Both our wannabe love birds are stubborn._

 _Obviously, the Snakehole Lounge stuff is from NBC's Parks and Recreation. I lit'rally miss that show to death._

 _Thank you for reading!_


	6. Chapter 6

Surprise! Early update because I'm not sure I've got time tomorrow.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews. They make my heart smile. Or they would, if it was anatomically possible. You know what I mean.

Sarcastic Bimbo is generally awesome and leaves lovely comments in my docs.

* * *

CHAPTER SIX—BELLA

.

.

.

I meet Edward at Red Mill. We have to wait in line for a bit, but it's definitely worth it. Even outside, the scent of fried beef, french fries, and grilled onions hangs in the air. Edward's stomach growls so loudly I can hear it over the other conversations in the crowd.

"It smells so good," he all but moans.

"Did you eat anything at work?"

"Not much. No time."

I pat his stomach. "Poor baby." God, there are some abs under there. I wonder if he'd mind if I take a peek…

Edward clears his throat and laughs, but he looks slightly uncomfortable. I pretend not to notice and snatch my hand back.

After we place our orders at the window, we search for a place to sit, finally finding a couple cramped spaces at the counter. He gestures for me to sit first, placing a steadying hand at my back. I stifle a sigh at the touch. While I make sure my skirt hasn't ridden up, he slides onto the stool next to me, sitting sideways to make room for his long legs.

When I notice how close we really are, a flock of giant butterflies takes flight in my stomach. His chest is a few inches from my shoulder, practically calling me to lean into him. His strong thighs are spread in a V, one knee cocked behind me. It's a feat of tremendous strength for me to not look at his crotch.

If I slide off the stool, I'll land right between his legs. I have a brief daydream in which I do just that, and then he pulls me right into his chest, lowers his head, and kisses the daylights out of me.

"They called our number," Edward says, breaking me out of the reverie. "I'll be right back."

I watch him leave, unabashedly staring at his ass in those perfectly worn jeans. If you looked up phenomenal in the dictionary, his ass would be pictured right alongside the definition. He's just as pretty leaving as he is when he heads back—a gorgeous male specimen, arms laden with delicious, artery-clogging goodness.

"Before we eat, I've got the bail money," I say, digging in my purse while he distributes the food.

"I don't need your money," he returns, giving me a stern look when I glance up at him.

With what I hope is a determined expression, I hand him a white envelope. "Well, you're gonna take it."

Instead of taking it, he picks up his burger and takes a huge bite, groaning at the taste. "God, that's good," he says when his mouth isn't full.

I picture his lips saying those words in other situations that don't involve food. However, I can't let myself get distracted from the objective at hand.

"Edward, you're taking this."

"No, I'm not." More burger, more of me watching his gorgeous lips.

"You have to. Please. I got myself into this mess; now let me be an adult and take care of it. It's bad enough I had to call someone to help me in the first place." The last part might be a little white lie, because there's nothing bad about getting to spend extra time with him.

He puts down his burger, sighs, and says, "You know I don't need the money. I wish you'd keep it—it was my pleasure to help you out. But if it's that important to you, then I'll take it." He wipes his hands off and finally takes the envelope when I slide it across the countertop. "I hope you know, I'm paying for this meal with bailout money."

I laugh and pick up my own burger. "You've got a deal."

We spend the rest of lunch talking about the upcoming trip to Vegas, scheming to help one another out of any undesirable activities Alice might force on us. We even come up with a code word—pound. If either one of us gets trapped, the word "pound" is our bat signal. For the rest of the afternoon, my dirty mind can't stop thinking about how much I'd like him to pound me.

As if we haven't had enough guilty pleasure worthy food, we go for ice cream afterward. I'd almost call it a date, if it didn't consist of daddy-daughter special time activities.

Ugh. Why did I go there?

Edward orders a giant banana split, and I mistakenly think he's going to share it.

"Oh, no," he says, like I'm nuts. "This is all mine."

And all my Lady and the Tramp banana split dreams disappear like a puff of smoke.

"You need to start packing a lunch for work if you're that hungry, Edward."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"Have you ever seen a grown man eat ice cream in public? Alone?"

I have to think about it. "I'm sure plenty of men do it every day. Why? What's wrong with that?"

His face is incredulous—well, as much as one can be with a mouthful of banana split. "Only women and children eat ice cream alone in public. I never get the chance to go out and get ice cream, so I'm taking full advantage of this banana split while I can."

"That has to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," I laugh. "Ice cream is an equal opportunity food." I eat a spoonful of my own salted caramel brownie sundae. It's heaven. That banana split can suck it.

He shakes his head and laughs. "Okay, okay. I just really don't want to share."

"I thought so. Emmett eats ice cream all the time. In public. In private. Probably on the toilet, too."

We crack up laughing, because it's most likely true.

After we finish our dessert, he walks me to my truck, his large, warm hand a pleasant weight at the small of my back as we exit the ice cream shop. Again, this seems an awful lot like a date, but I'm not going to ruin my illusion by asking for a kiss before he leaves. Not that I'll turn one down. I'll climb him like a tree if he puts his mouth on mine.

As we reach my truck, he says, "Hello, old monster." He pats the hood.

"Stop talking about me like that," I laugh, though I know he means the truck. He and Emmett have called it that since Emmett first drove it in high school.

"Not you, the truck. She's the biggest, loudest, rustiest Energizer Bunny."

"Well, not all of us can have a sexy sports car."

"You know, they say that after so long, vehicles and their owners start to resemble one another."

"Are you saying I'm blocky and dented?" I ask in mock offense. "And I believe that's spouses. Maybe pets, too." Great. The last thing I need is for him to think I'm gonna look like Jake one day.

"I was thinking more like stubborn and temperamental."

I smack his chest and he grabs my hand, laughing. "So, I guess you're loud and pretentious?" He hasn't let go of my hand. My heart almost beats out of my chest, all over a little hand-holding. My fingers tingle when he lets go.

"How about sleek and sexy? You said so yourself."

"I said your car was sexy. Not you." Oh, but I lie, Edward. I lie. I'd have a nose like a broomstick if I was Pinocchio.

During the whole exchange, we're leaning against my truck, less than a foot from one another, as he looks down at me with a ready smile and an affectionate gaze. We've always enjoyed verbally sparring with each other, but something in me thinks this is different. It's something in his eyes, and the way they stray from mine occasionally. Am I imagining things, or is he looking at my lips?

Putting a hand to his heart, he groans. "Ouch. That hurt, Bella. That hurt."

"I'll show you hurt," I threaten, and ball up my fist, ready to throw a pretend punch.

He leans forward to catch my hand in his, and we're inches apart as he looks down at me. There's no way I'm imagining it this time—he's definitely looking at my lips.

Sebastian and Flounder sing _Kiss the Girl_ in my brain.

 _Kiss me. Kiss me_ , I chant in my head, as if I've got some sort of mind control abilities. My own eyes dart back and forth from his lowered lashes to his mouth, and I need to feel his lips on mine more than I need to breathe.

His head lowers a fraction and I start to lift onto the tips of my toes, and then a horn sounds somewhere in the distance. It snaps the spell we're in, and he releases my hand, stepping back. Disappointment is a living thing inside my chest, swelling until it crushes my heart.

"I've gotta get back. Still haven't slept yet," he explains, not meeting my eyes.

"Sure," I say quickly, "Go get some rest."

Backing away, he waves. "See you later. Thanks for the bail money." This time he does look at me, smirking, before turning on his heel to head back to his car.

"Thank you," I return weakly, watching him go. And though I might be a tiny bit heartbroken, I still take immense satisfaction in staring at his ass.

.

—x—

.

On the way home, I replay every single second of what I've dubbed The Almost Kiss in my head. There's no doubt in my mind—if it wasn't for that random asshole's horn, he would've kissed me. I'd like to find that jerk and … and … I don't know, literally kick him in the ass or something.

Though the afternoon has been great, I find myself a little depressed. Nothing like getting denied by Edward Cullen to put a girl down in the dumps. By the time I park my truck on the street in front of my apartment, I'm full-on feeling sorry for myself. I throw myself out of the truck and head for the porch, ready for a cuddle session with Jake. I have low expectations, but it's not Jake's fault. Not much can compare to an Almost Kiss.

My house is tucked away in Queen Anne, in the upper floor of a rambling Craftsman. I absolutely adore the space. It's painted a smart slate blue and trimmed with bright white eaves and trim. The lush, green grass absolutely glows against the fresh paint, and I love nothing more than to sit out on the front porch during a quiet rain.

I rent from a nice, older gentleman and his mother, who converted the upstairs into an income unit when they realized the original home was too large for just the two of them. The place often comes complete with baked treats and homemade lasagna. They don't even mind letting Jake run free in their small backyard. If only their fence was more heavy-duty containment and less white picket ornamental, the place would be absolutely perfect.

It makes Dad happy that I don't technically live alone, even though my place is completely separate from the rest of the house. I have my own front door that opens to stairs that lead directly up to my apartment. Despite the fact I've been out of the house for five years now, I'm not sure Charlie will ever consider me "adult" enough to take care of myself. The belief comes from a lovable place, but that doesn't make it less annoying. As the baby of the family, I've always struggled to assert my independence. Having a huge, intimidating brother and stern father, both of whom carry a gun for a living, makes for a very sheltered life.

Dad's having trouble letting go, I know that. He's been acting this way ever since I decided to stay in Seattle after I graduate. He wants me to come back home to Forks and teach there. Not happening, but he'll get over it. It's not fair, really. He had no problem with Emmett joining the Seattle P.D.

As if he knows I'm thinking of him, my phone rings, just as I'm unlocking the door. Jake hops around me, barking in greeting. I answer the phone as I take the dog back down the steps and around back. He can hang out in the yard while I talk.

"Hey, Dad. And yes, I had the locksmith install that new deadbolt you got me," I say in greeting. I wish he would embrace technology, so we can use FaceTime and he could see my epic eye roll.

There are now two very shiny, silver, official-looking deadbolts (wannabe chastity belts in Dad's eyes) fixed above the doorknob. If I let him have his way, he'd post a sign on the front door that says Warning: Trespassers will be shot by Charlie Swan.

"Good, good," comes my father's gruff voice. "You do know those things won't do any good if you don't lock 'em, right?"

I sigh, smiling. He'll never change. "Yes, Dad. I lock them before I go to bed every night." I bite my lip so I won't laugh as I wait for what's coming. I love winding him up.

"Bella! What have I told you? Bad people come out in the daytime too."

I'd better let him off the hook before he really goes berserk. "Dad, I'm kidding."

"Not funny, Isabella Marie."

"Ooh, you're serious! The full and middle names!"

"You bet I'm serious. Your safety is serious. Are you using that security system I set up for you?"

I forgot—there is one kind of tech my father wholeheartedly embraces—the video doorbell. He got me a Ring when I moved in, and I have to admit, it's neat. I'll never let him know, though.

"Yes, Dad. I don't even go down the steps unless it's someone I know." This is true—I'm no dummy.

"That's my girl. How is school? Do you need any money?"

I freeze at the last question, my paranoid self wondering if he somehow knows about my stint in jail.

"School is great. I'm doing well in my classes, and I like my TA assignments."

"I'm glad, Bella. You know your mother and I will help you out if you need it."

"I'm doing okay money-wise. Thanks for offering, though."

"Listen, kiddo, I gotta go. Your mother's yapping at me from upstairs. She's probably up in that studio covered in paint," he says, and I can picture his grumpy face. He pretends to be put-upon, but I know how much he loves Mom. When she declared her new calling in life was to be an artist, he's the one who remodeled Emmett's old room into an art studio and bought all her supplies.

I smile, glad I had the chance to talk with him—he's managed to cheer me up. "Sure, Dad. Give Mom my love."

"Will do. Love you, Bells."

"You, too, Dad."

The rest of the day is low-key. I finish up some homework from today's class and do a little research on my thesis. Jake gets stir-crazy, so I take him to the dog park. I bring him home at twilight, and then I make spaghetti from a jar for dinner. Fun times.

The next couple days are more of the same. School, homework, Jake. The only contact I have with Edward is through Facebook, but I figured that would happen. I know he's working a lot, and he's got a tendency to ghost when things make him uncomfortable. But one thing I've learned in the past month or so; he always comes back around. I keep hoping he'll pull his head out of his ass and give in.

Friday night, Jasper calls to cancel our Bachelor party planning session. Depressed since I won't get to see Edward, I order a pizza, ready to call it a night. I feed Jake, then take him out back to do his business.

The pizza comes quicker than I expected, and I dig in. Belly full of pizza? Check. Beer in the fridge? Check. Nothing to do? Check. Pj's it is. I pick my favorite ancient t-shirt I stole from Emmett long ago, and forego the pants. If I can't be pants-less on a boring Friday night alone, then something's wrong with this world.

When the doorbell rings, I check the monitor like the dutiful daughter I am.

My heart flips and my stomach drops when I see Edward on the screen. I didn't expect to see him tonight, after Jasper cancelled the meeting. And seeing him all alone is a helluva lot better than sitting around with the others while trying not to let my feelings show.

Grinning a mile wide, I press the intercom button and chirp, "Be right down!"

I "forget" my pants on purpose.

.

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* * *

Oh, man. So close. Sooo close. Edward is up next.

Sebastian, Flounder, and _Kiss The Girl_ are from _The Little Mermaid._ I'm sure you knew that. I hope you knew that.

Thank you so much for reading!

See you Thursday.


	7. Chapter 7

_Happy Hump Day!_

 _Many thanks to Sarcastic Bimbo for beta work. She even gets my silly pop-culture references.  
_

* * *

 **CHAPTER 7 — EDWARD**

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I'm so damn tired.

Eighteen hours into a twenty-four hour shift, and I'm fading fast. I've done more epidurals today than I do in some weeks, and I've attended nine surgeries. There are some shifts from hell, and there are some shifts from HELL. Today is one of the latter—I lost a patient today.

Death is a rare complication from anesthesia, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. Losing an otherwise healthy patient like that, when every intervention fails, one right after the other until it's too late … it's like a blow to the gut.

My logical side knows nothing could have prevented it, but I still second-guess every move, every decision I made. I'm still running scenarios in my head, half a day later, and I'll probably keep doing it for the next week. Did I miss something? Did I make the right choices?

"Fuck," I sigh, scrubbing a hand over my face. I need a break—and now that the end of my shift is in sight, time will probably start moving backwards. I head for the doctors' lounge, where I can hopefully get some silence until I'm paged again. Luck is on my side and I find myself alone, for the moment.

I splash some cold water on my face, hoping the shock will help me get reoriented. The standard-issue paper towels I use to dry off are only a step above sandpaper, so that should work too. Nothing like losing a couple layers of skin to wake a person up.

I head for the Keurig and choose the largest setting. A massive dose of caffeine might not make my shift go by faster, but it sure couldn't hurt. When it's done and steaming hot, I take my precious coffee and head for one of the two couches.

I zone out for a bit, but all of a sudden someone's standing right behind me, and the surprise makes me slosh coffee over the rim of my mug. "Shit!" I hiss as it splashes onto my chest. Right in the fucking V-neck of my scrubs, damn it. This day just gets better and better. Bella would get a kick out of this—me being as clumsy as she usually is.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

Dr. Kate Mulloy looks more like Barbie than an accomplished cardiothoracic surgeon. She's one of my favorite surgeons to work with—she likes to joke around and chooses some pretty good music in the OR. She's always polite and treats everyone in her OR with respect.

"You must be a ninja," I joke, drying my chest with another one of those scratchy paper towels. Dammit.

Dr. Mulloy grins. "Nah. If I was a ninja, you'd be dead and I'd be drinking your coffee."

I snort. "Nice."

Gesturing toward the coffee maker, she asks, "Do you mind?"

I shake my head and move out of her way, figuring I'm as dry as I'll get until I can get back to the locker room to change. Settling down with what's left of my coffee, I take a big sip and have to restrain myself from whimpering in relief.

"I heard about Mr. Volturi," Kate says, sinking down onto the couch across from mine.

I sigh, wishing I didn't have to talk about this. The hospital is a fucking gossip machine, however, and I can't expect that the staff will keep quiet. The only person I really want to talk to is Bella, but I won't see her for hours. I shouldn't see her at all, but I can't seem to stay away from her. The fact that I almost kissed her the other day proves it. Fuck, I wish that sentence didn't have the word almost in it.

While I ruminate about my best friend's little sister, Kate watches me closely, expecting a response. I meet her eyes and see nothing but sympathy. There's none of that judgmental bullshit behind some other surgeons' inquiries. There are some who think anesthesiology is easy, and are full of disapproval any time something goes wrong. They wouldn't have any patients to operate on if I didn't keep them alive during the damn surgery. But that's just my biased opinion.

"Anaphylactic shock. We tried everything. Nothing worked. His blood pressure spiked and he went into cardiac arrest." I set my coffee aside and set my elbows on my knees, eyes on the floor. "No family history of complications, nothing in patient history suggested anything abnormal." I'm so damn frustrated. It's a puzzle I'll likely never solve; even if I managed to, there wouldn't be any satisfaction. A man is still dead.

Kate gingerly sits down next to me and places a hand on my shoulder. I tense up, wondering what's going on here. While we're friendly, we're just co-workers. She's never touched me, and I'm not sure I want her to. No, I _know_ I don't want her touching me … there's only one person I want comfort from right now. Why can't I stop thinking about her?

Kate rubs my shoulder a bit, and I start to get fidgety. "Things go wrong. You know that. Don't blame yourself."

Her tone is gentle, and I know she means well, but whatever she's offering—if I'm not imagining things—I'm not one bit interested. Which surprises me. I'm not blind; Kate's hot, and I should be interested, even if I can't date her due to my personal "no-hospital" policy.

"I don't blame myself. I just wish things had turned out differently." I stand abruptly and look down to find her watching me with a puzzled look.

"I get it, Edward. I really do. I just thought you might want someone to talk to. Sometimes it's lonely, working the way we do. Seeing the things we see."

I just watch her, at a loss for what to say. I have a bad feeling about this conversation, and I don't think I'll get out of it without a whole lot of awkwardness.

Kate stands and takes a step in my direction. "You and I are a lot alike. We work well together in the operating room, and we respect each other. We have similar work schedules. We understand what it's like to do this job…" She stops and shakes her head with a smile. "I'm just going to come out and say it: I think we'd complement each other in other areas, as well."

Well, that wasn't exactly "coming right out and saying it," but I got her drift.

Unaware of my growing discomfort, Kate goes on to say, "We're both attractive, busy people. I don't know about you, but I find it's hard to make the time for dating. So why waste the time? We both have needs." She comes even closer, looking up at me with definite bedroom eyes. "Together, I bet we could meet those needs quite well."

I've been slowly backing away during her whole speech, but I've hit the counter and I'm trapped. This is what it must feel like to be caught in the crosshairs. I prefer to be the hunter, not the hunted, thank you very much.

When I finally find my voice, it's rusty. "Kate … I don't know what to say…"

"Say you'll meet me in the women's showers at the end of your shift."

My eyes bug out as I search for a way to let her down gently. This woman is nuts. There's no way I'd set foot in the women's showers, even if I was interested. That's a good way to get slapped with a sexual harassment charge (right before I get shit-canned).

"I don't think it's a good idea to meet you in the showers—"

"How about the supply closet?"

What is with this woman and workplace sex? Hospitals are not sexy. They're exactly the opposite of sexy. So unsexy that all I want to do after my shift is shower this place off of me, and it's not like I have anything else to do or anyplace else to be. I'm just going home to beat off to fantasies of Bella. Don't judge me. I have needs, just like Kate said.

But first, I need to talk my way out of this. "Or the supply closet. Kate, I—"

"You have a girlfriend, don't you?" She sighs, shoulders falling. "I should have known."

I thank God for Kate's penchant for interrupting. Now I have an out! "I do. I'm sorry I let you keep on like that. I wasn't expecting this, and this thing with Bella is so new…"

How much I want to have a "thing" with Bella should disturb me, but what was left of my moral compass jumped ship sometime after I bailed Bella out of jail.

"No, no! I'm the one who's sorry. I could see you were a bit uncomfortable, and I was pushy. Like I said, this job gets lonely. Does your girlfriend have a single brother, by chance?" she jokes, seemingly unaffected by my less than skilled rejection.

I just about choke on my fucking tongue. Oh, yes, she does have a brother. And he's going to murder me if he finds out I want to do a hell of a lot more than just date his sister.

"She does, but he's not single. Getting married next month, actually."

Kate sighs good-naturedly. "Oh, well. All you good ones are taken. Guess I'll need to hit up Costco for some new batteries," she says with a wink, and breezes out the door.

My mouth hangs open for a good five seconds after she's gone. But I'm not thinking about Kate. No, I'm thinking about Bella. And batteries. And battery-powered ... _things_.

Yeah, my moral compass is dead and buried. Sayonara.

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-x-

.

Miraculously, the rest of my shift goes by quickly. I head to the locker room to gather my things, eyeing the door opposite as though Kate might pop out and yank me in to shower with her.

Obviously, I don't stick around long. Too many prying eyes. Okay, so maybe those eyes are rooted in my newly sprouted paranoia, but I'd much rather shower at home for now. Maybe forever.

When I've made it home and cleaned up (okay, yes, I "thought" about Bella in the shower, damn you), I wander into the kitchen, yawning the whole way. Food is number one on my list, and then sleep. So much sleep. I head for the refrigerator and freeze—there it is, on a post-it note, in my handwriting. In black sharpie, no less.

 ** _bachelor party meeting—8:30 Bella's_**

Well, shit. On the downside, I can't show up in my boxers. But I get to see Bella—now that's a definite plus.

.

-x-

.

She answers the door in a fucking men's t-shirt. Sure, it covers more of her than the bikini I saw her wear during Spring Break a couple years back—but God help me, the very notion that she might be naked underneath... the possibility that only one layer of thin cotton separates her bare skin from my eyes, my hands…

Fuck.

"Aren't you supposed to be dressed?" I choke out.

She tries to hide a smirk when she catches me struggling to keep my eyes above her neck. "Alice is sick. We need to reschedule everything. Jasper was supposed to call you."

I frown. "Shit. That must have been him," I mumble, recalling hearing my phone ring while I was beating off in the shower earlier. In my defense, I was in need of some major stress relief.

With Bella always on my mind, I'll count myself fortunate if my balls haven't turned completely purple and exploded by the time Rose and Emmett get married.

"Come in, Edward. You look dead on your feet." She gestures up the stairs.

While I've dropped her off here a few times, I've never been inside. There's a warm, soft glow from the open door, and soft music trails down the steps. I've never seen the place, but it feels right. Then again, maybe it's her. I can see myself here, with her. Maybe curled up on her couch together. Kissing her. Loving her.

Whoa. Loving her?

Where did that come from? This thing with Bella—it's just simple attraction.

Right?

Sure, I care about her. As Emmett's best friend, I've spent half my life looking out for her. We scared off all the losers, doled out advice she didn't particularly want, and kicked a few asses when needed. I protected her like she was the little sister I never had.

But now, the things I want to do to her ... they're not exactly brotherly. Haven't been for a while.

If Emmett finds what goes on in my head, he'll kick my ass. Because she needs protection from _me_.

"Edward?" Bella's voice is ripe with concern, and I wonder how long I've been staring like a creeper. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I grin sheepishly. "Just feeling a little silly."

"Why?"

"I should've checked my phone before I left." Since I certainly couldn't check it while I was in the shower, wishing you were there with me…

My ears must be flaming red. It feels like I have a fucking sunburn. I hope she doesn't notice, because I have no idea what I'll tell her if she asks about it. There's no way I'm telling her I fantasize about her in the shower while I'm rubbing one out.

Bella is staring at me too, though. We stand there in an awkward silence to end all awkward silences, and then I notice it—she's blushing. A soft pink flush creeps up her neck and kisses the tops of her cheekbones. Backlit by the light of her apartment, she all but glows. She's never been more beautiful—baggy shirt, messy ponytail and all.

I'm about to say fuck it all and kiss the shit out of her … and then a moth dive-bombs me. Right in the face.

I. Hate. Moths.

Ever since I was a kid, I've hated the damn things. They fly around all crazy and end up in your mouth, your nose, your ears, your hair … they're just wrong. I realize I'm not winning myself any tough guy points here. It's not the most masculine fear, but what is, really? Isn't "masculine fear" supposed to be an oxymoron?

In any case, I'd rather face down a mountain lion than a freaking moth. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating, but have I mentioned I _hate_ moths?

The little winged devil crazily circles the bare bulb of the porch light, determined to either burn itself to death or terrorize me. The answer is up for debate.

It makes another dive and I try to bat it away without looking like a total spastic moron.

Bella puts a hand over her mouth to cover her laugh, and I give her a dirty look. She knows all about my stupid pseudo-phobia, and she and Emmett teased me mercilessly when we were younger.

"I'll just give you two some time alone." She pretends to shut the door.

I manage to get a foot in to pry it open and push my way inside, slamming the door behind me. "You're awful, you know that?" I pull her up the steps and into the apartment.

"I know. I learned from the best."

She looks entirely too happy. She also speaks the truth. As kids, Emmett and I served up some ruthless teasing, and she eventually learned to dole out some misery of her own.

"I still don't understand how you can be so afraid of them," she says, shaking her head.

I give her the side-eye, glowering when she laughs at me again. "Ever heard of the Mothman?"

Bella snorts. I should find it unattractive, but I can't imagine finding anything unattractive about her.

Quirking a brow, she quips, "I don't think he was an actual moth."

"I don't even care. Those fuckers are crazy. It's like they're always aiming for my mouth. Or my nose. Bastards are trying to suffocate me, I know it."

She just keeps laughing at me, not even trying to stop as we ascend the stairs. "I wish I had video of that. You were swatting at the air like you were being attacked by a million bees, all over one moth! I could blackmail you for years."

I scowl and shrug off my jacket. "You wouldn't." She probably would.

"I so would." Taking my jacket, she hangs it in the tiny closet just off the foyer. "After all the humiliation I suffered at the hands of you and Emmett, you deserve it."

Hearing her talk about Emmett makes it hard to ignore the guilt that sits in my gut. The guilt that's slowly but surely being eclipsed by what I feel for Bella. Fighting it saps all my energy, and I'm already tired enough. Being around her makes me happy. She's smart, she's independent, she's caring and has a wicked sense of humor. Most of all, she cares about me. I know she does. But the question is: does she want me like I want her? I think she does—I think she always has. But I don't want this to be just the remnant of a teenage crush. We're both different people now.

With a shock, I realize I'm not looking for some short-term distraction. When I think about my future, I see Bella.

I just can't seem to get past our history. Am I truly afraid of Emmett's reaction, or am I afraid of getting in too deep? The fear of my best friend is well-founded—it'll be my funeral pyre if he finds out.

Unaware of my internal struggle, Bella sweeps past me and heads for the kitchen. The back of her T-shirt has writing on it, but I have no idea what it says. I'm too busy staring at her ass, and I barely manage to stifle a groan. I want to know what's under that shirt so damn badly, I actually have to clench my hands into fists to keep from grabbing a handful.

Her kitchen is clean, if a little cluttered. A coffee-maker, a bowl filled with fruit, and a jar full of utensils sit on the countertop. A lone dish sits in the sink, and clean white towels hang next to the little window in the corner.

"You want something to drink?" Bella opens the fridge door, bending at the waist to peer inside.

My restraint begins to die a slow, painful death, and my dick springs to life. Black lace peeks out from the hem of her shirt, hugging the barest glimpse of the curve of her ass. I want to fall to my knees behind her, push that shirt up and lick her pussy through those panties. This time I do moan out loud, but try to cover it with a cough.

She pulls two beers from the fridge and turns toward me, puzzled. "What was that?"

I blink, panicking because my cough obviously didn't work. "Huh?" I cough a couple more times to make it more convincing.

"Did you say something?" Bella pulls two beers from the fridge and hands one to me.

Clearing my throat, I grab the cold bottle and busy myself with the twist top. "Nah. I just had an itch in my throat." I clear my throat again for good measure, frowning when I can't quite get the cap off the beer. "What's up with this thing?"

Amused, Bella retrieves a bottle opener from a drawer and opens her own drink before handing it over. "It's not a twist top."

For the first time, I peer down at the beer, noting the cap. "Well, shit," I mutter, fighting back the urge to roll my eyes at my own embarrassment. Instead, I pop the cap off and take a long gulp. I really want to just down the whole thing, but I figure sobriety is the better choice in this situation.

"It happens," she murmurs, taking a sip and watching me over the rim of the bottle.

"Like that redneck bumper sticker." Leaning back against the counter, I smirk, watching her right back.

She grins and hops up onto the kitchen island, crossing her legs, much to my disappointment.

"I had to scrape one of those off my truck when I inherited it from Emmett."

"You scraped it off? That's a shame. It was badass."

Bella rolls her eyes. "You sound just like him."

"Well, we did spend our formative years together."

"While I tagged along and made your lives miserable."

"As a little sister should." The words were out before I have a chance to think it over, and I almost regret them—except we both seem to need a reminder of who we are to one another. Who we have in common and why all of this can only end badly.

"Well, what else was there to do when my brother would rather hang out with some gangly, nerdy, ginger kid than me? I had to get my revenge somehow," Bella explains with a shrug.

"What did the color of my hair have to do with it? And I'm not a ginger." Running my hand through my hair, I add, "It's brown. Mostly."

"And you're in denial. _My_ hair is brown. Yours is … I don't even know what to call it. If I haven't known you for just about forever, I'd think you got it colored at the salon." She takes another sip of beer, and then adds, "But it's fucking hot."

I blink and almost choke on the beer I just sipped. "What?" Like I'd go get my damn hair colored. I don't have time for that shit. Sport Clips is as fancy as I get when it comes to haircuts, and I'm lucky if I can get in there on a regular basis.

"It's hot. All messed up and sexy, like some girl's been grabbing it while you're fucking her brains out. You probably spend a while in front of the mirror to get that look, don't you?" she asks, grinning like the damned Cheshire cat.

I've got no idea where she's going with this, it's making me uncomfortable—because it's arousing as hell. How far will she go? How far will I go to find out?

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?" I set the beer on the counter behind me with a loud clink, and make my way toward the island where she sits.

"Did we not just take a walk down memory lane, where I was the annoying little girl who lived to make your life miserable?" Bella takes a long pull from her bottle, then licks her bottom lip. "Of course I'm fucking with you."

I bite back a groan. Hearing that word come out of her mouth, seeing her tongue … it wrecks me. I can't tear my eyes off her mouth as I come to a stop right in front of her. She sucks in a breath, bringing her chest even closer to mine. We're so close that I can see the pulse fluttering in her neck, and I want to rub my open lips across that skin. Taste it. Pull it between my teeth and suck until she whimpers my name.

"What are you doing, Edward?"

I'd have to be deaf not to hear the shakiness in her voice, and it has me biting back a satisfied smile. Taking the beer from her hand and setting it aside, I lean down until my lips are a mere inch from hers and murmur, "Fucking with you."

Emphasis on the fucking, please.

"You can't fuck with me when I'm already fucking with you," she rushes out, realizing she's trapped.

"Why not?" The words are barely a whisper, a huff of breath that hangs like curls of smoke in thick, humid air.

Tension crackles between us, and it gives me the courage to push farther. I cup her knees in my hands and push them apart so I can wedge myself between them. Then I glide my palms up the outsides of her thighs to rest on her hips. Bella puts her hands on top of mine, fingers digging in. To push me away, or hold me in place? One, two, three heartbeats, and we both remain still.

The whole time, I watch her face, eyes darting from her parted lips to her wide, gorgeous irises and back again. Her lips look soft, lush; they glisten with a sheen of moisture. I wonder if she wears lip gloss, and what it might taste like. Heat sinks through my body like a sedative, a seductive vine wrapping around my limbs.

I know then—I'm not leaving until I get a real taste.

I'm pushing my boundaries. Testing myself—and failing spectacularly.

And I'm loving every minute of it.

"What's happening here?" There's a slight waver to Bella's voice, a catch in her breath. Soft pink colors her cheeks, making her lips look even more inviting.

"I want to kiss you," I admit. "So badly."

Bella's eyes flutter closed and her hands tighten on mine before she slowly glides them up my forearms. When her lids lift, I can see the yes in her stare. But still I wait. I want the words. I want them more than I could have ever imagined.

As I wait, her hands continue upward, over my biceps and shoulders, until she holds my face in her hands and pulls me in.

She waits a beat, and whispers, "Then kiss me, Edward. I dare you."

.

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* * *

 _YES! Finally, right? This scene is where the title of the fic came from, and one of the first I wrote. Then I wrote the last few chapters. Weird, I know. But it worked for me. Anyway, I'll update Sunday, since I sort of left you guys hanging (sorry). I promise you, it's worth it. ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Slightly early update because I felt guilty leaving you guys where I did. Edward is up again._

 _SarcasticBimbo is my lovely beta._

* * *

 **CHAPTER EIGHT** — **EDWARD**

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"Kiss me, Edward. I dare you."

It's a challenge I never could resist. Not from her.

The first touch of our lips is soft. A light brush, then another. With a little growl, Bella grabs my shirt and yanks me closer, catching my bottom lip with the barest graze of her teeth. I need no further invitation—wrapping my arms tightly around her waist, I crush my lips to hers. I drag my tongue over her bottom lip and she opens to me, letting me savor the taste I've been craving like mad. She curls her legs around my hips, melting into my arms, throwing herself into the kiss.

Every curve and line of her is pressed up against my body, a delicious, full body caress that makes me shiver. I rub my hands up and down her back as her fingers begin their own exploration of my body. They drag slowly down my shoulders, chest, and abs. She slips her tongue into my mouth and we trade kisses: soft and sweet, hard and hot. I hold her tighter, moaning as she wiggles her hips right up against my cock.

Needing more, I break from her mouth and trail kisses over her jaw and down to her neck. I rub my lips over the pulse point there, feeling it race beneath my kiss as I savor the sweet, salty taste of her skin. Bella reaches up and grabs a handful of my hair, pulling me closer. I love the way she lets me know exactly what she wants—it turns me the fuck on, even more than I already am. I want more of her reactions, more directions, more of her body, more of _her_.

I smooth a hand down her side and back up, grazing the side of her breast.

"Mmm," she hums, arching her back.

I make the same circuit again, this time grazing her nipple. It's a hard pebble beneath my thumb, and I linger, savoring the sounds she makes as I play with her nipple. I lift my head so I can watch her face as I drag my hand down again, then back up, under her shirt this time. Her brown eyes are hazy and her pink, kiss-bruised lips are slightly parted. Her mouth drops open on a gasp when I cup her in my hand, squeezing gently before pulling at her nipple with my thumb and forefinger. I take her mouth, swallowing a whimper as I play with her tits, using both hands to drive her crazy.

She resumes her own exploration of my body, and it's my turn to moan when she lightly drags her fingernails down my chest. For such a soft touch, it packs a punch, lights me on fire. I want my shirt gone, and hers too. I want it all gone—every bit of clothing, every hesitation, every _we shouldn't_ and every _I can't_. I want the two of us laid bare for each other to explore every single inch of skin.

It seems we share the same thoughts, because Bella grabs the hem of my t-shirt and pushes it up. Breaking the kiss, I draw in a sharp breath as her palms skim my abs. I drop my forehead to hers, and we both watch while she bares my stomach and part of my chest.

"God, Edward," she says, voice husky. "You're just…"

Somewhat self-conscious, I joke, "Underfed?" I miss meals more than I should, due to my schedule. I'm toned, but far from bulky.

"Don't act like you don't know you could pass for a freaking Greek statue." Bella grins up at me and pats my abs. "Nice work, Cullen. What else've you got under there?"

Not one to disappoint, I reach behind my head and pull off the shirt completely. She pretends to wipe drool from the corner of her mouth, and even though it's a joke, it makes me feel like the Greek god she thinks I am.

Like they're magnets and I'm the metal, Bella's hands are glued to my abs and chest, covering every inch of skin in between. She squeezes my shoulders and runs her fingers down my biceps, then back up. She presses a kiss to my collarbone, and I tip my head back, gripping her hips tightly.

"You're killing me here," I grit out, willing my erection not to burst out of my jeans. Logically, I know it's not possible, but the situation down there is downright painful. I need to feel her hands on me.

Bella laughs wickedly and pushes me back far enough so she can slide down from the counter. She drops another kiss on my collarbone … then one over my heart … my abs … lower … until she's on her knees before me. My eyes follow her the whole way.

My mind is so hazy I don't realize what's happening until I feel her fingers at the button of my jeans. I can almost feel her hot breath on my cock, and I fight with everything in me to stay still, stay in control. Bracing my hands on the counter to steady myself, I stare down at the beautiful sight that's been the starring role in many of my fantasies and dreams.

This is not happening. It shouldn't be happening.

"What are you … oh, God … this is…" Fuck, this _is_ happening, I realize, as she pops the button and slowly draws down the zipper. I squeeze my eyes shut in anticipation of her touch on my desperate cock, hoping I don't blow it as soon as she takes me out.

But her touch never comes.

Some kind of noise pierces the haze of lust in my head, growing louder and louder, but so does the tantrum in my body. My dick is not happy.

"Shit! Jake is still in the back yard!" Bella pushes me back and hops to her feet, racing for the door and down the steps, leaving me half-dressed with an erection capable of taking down a small building. Yeah, tantrum sounds about right. The idea of throwing myself to the ground, kicking and screaming, sounds pretty damn appealing at the moment.

Sighing in resignation, I hurriedly throw on my shirt and fasten my jeans, then head down to the backyard. Before I can leave the house, Bella meets me on the porch, sporting an expression I can only describe as murderous, yet disgusted.

"What? Is Jake okay?" I ask, puzzled as to why the dog is nowhere to be seen.

"He's fine. That fucker," she growls, marching up the steps and straight to the kitchen. I follow, unsure what the hell is going on. She reaches the cupboard and pulls out a huge box of baking soda. Bending over, she searches the bottom cabinets for something else. I use the time wisely and ogle her ass until she comes up with what looks like a vat of tomato sauce.

"Are we doing a science experiment? Because that looks like one bottle of vinegar away from a really messy homemade volcano," I joke.

Bella is unusually silent, and it makes me uneasy. She seems more mad than worried, so I know Jake isn't hurt, but something is going on. "What is it?"

"He cornered a skunk. I didn't know they even hung out in the city, but of course, Jake would find one. Thank god he's up to date on his rabies shot," Bella mutters, pacing the tiny kitchen.

Eyeing the materials on the counter, I speculate, "I take it this has happened before?" Why buy such large amounts otherwise? Perhaps she really does like to make homemade volcanoes? Or homemade marinara sauce? The marinara option sounds so much better.

"Yeah, once when we stayed with Dad back in Forks. It was awful. We tried tomato juice, but it didn't take all the smell away. I figured we'd start with a baking soda solution this time, and use the tomato sauce as a last resort."

My brows shoot up and the uneasy feeling goes through the roof. "'We'?"

She gives me a look that dares me to argue with her. "Yep."

That's all she says. And that's all it takes—one word and one very intimidating wordless command. The Look. I know that stare; I've seen it all too often on Emmett's face, usually when he's about to drag me into one of his harebrained schemes. Like the time we stole a bust of Abraham Lincoln from our history teacher's classroom and held it for ransom. When we gave it back (sans ransom, unfortunately), we left it at the bottom of Mr. Molina's backyard pool. When we got caught, we spent the summer doing manual labor with historically accurate garden and lawn tools.

Needless to say, I know when I'm beaten. The sad thing is, part of me doesn't mind—I'll be spending more time with Bella, even if it means helping her clean up a very stinky dog.

.

-x-

.

"That might be the most disgusting thing I've ever done," I mutter, stripping off my shirt and throwing it down the steps. I toss a dirty look at Jake, who's a wet heap of canine fur in the corner. He looks entirely too happy with himself. Maybe it's because he's the only clean "person" in the room.

"I hear you," Bella agrees. "That smell is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

Her shirt is wet and clinging to her body, but it's streaked with baking soda solution and tomato sauce. But let's be honest—I can look past the skunk shirt if it means I get my own personal wet t-shirt contest. Then that smell hits me all over again.

"God, it's stuck in my nose," I complain, heading to the sink to scrub up like I do at the hospital. Should only take about three million times. "Aren't we supposed to be nose-blind by now? That's what Febreze says."

Bella laughs. "I think so, but obviously, the universe wants us to suffer." She picks up a lock of hair and sniffs it, grimacing. "How the hell did it get in my hair?" she mutters under her breath.

I grab a clean dish towel and lean against the sink as I dry my hands. Her eyes go wandering, from my forearms up to my biceps, shoulders, and finally my bare torso. I chuckle at her glazed over eyes and slightly open mouth.

She shrugs. "Like you don't know you're hot."

"I don't smell hot." I grin.

"Believe me, I know. Neither one of us smells like a bouquet of fresh flowers." She makes a face. "But I do have more baking soda and a decent-sized shower."

I have to put my body on lockdown so it doesn't react to her offer. Because the thought of us in the shower together makes me want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her there immediately. However, what comes out of my mouth is the complete opposite.

"Not a good idea."

Bella visibly deflates, and I hate that I've made her sad.

"Why not?"

"Bella, I just don't think it's a good idea. This … earlier … we shouldn't—"

"Why? I know you enjoyed it. We both did. You can't deny that kind of chemistry."

I tip my head back in frustration, mostly at myself. "Emmett, that's why. He'd beat me to a pulp for touching you."

"You already touched me! Why stop now? If you're going to hell, you might as well do it thoroughly."

I can't help the small smile pulling at my lips. "Persistent little thing."

"I'm so persistent. I'll haunt your dreams." She crosses the room and puts a hand on my arm.

"You already do," I murmur.

"It's only fair then. You've been haunting mine for years."

In spite of the stink, I wrap my arms around her, drawing her close. "What if this ends badly? We have a lot to lose," I say, resting my cheek on her wet hair. "Are you sure you're willing to risk it?"

"Absolutely," she insists. There's no hesitation. "We have a lot to gain." She tucks her cheek against my chest and I know she can feel my heart racing.

"We do," I admit, and it's freeing. We're going to do this, and it feels so much more natural than the denial I've wallowed in for the last weeks. Pulling back, I lift her face to look at me. I place a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips, which quickly turns into something much more hot and dirty.

Speaking of dirty…

I lift my mouth from hers and say, "As much as I'd love to keep this up, we both smell like Pepé Le Pew."

Giggling, she takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. "You, shower. Hand me your jeans." She holds out a hand, waiting for me to strip.

I don't even question her, just shuck them off and hand them over. Hopefully my boxers escaped the skunking, because I can't trust myself to be naked and in the same vicinity as Bella.

"Have a shower. I'll wash your clothes and get you some baking soda."

.

-x-

.

Freshly showered, we're settled on the couch, watching a stand-up comedian on Netflix. Bella found another couple of those ancient t-shirts, which we're wearing now. I don't look nearly as sexy as she does in a t-shirt and underwear, but she doesn't seem to care. Her body is curled into my side, and I can feel every laugh in addition to the sweet sound of her giggles. She's warm and soft and totally relaxed, and I could sit here like this for days.

The dryer goes off about the same time the show is over. Bella starts to get up, but I pull her down to my lap for a quick kiss.

"You sit. I'll get them." I kiss her again, this time not so quickly. How I ever got by without kissing her whenever I want is beyond comprehension.

"You can stay, you know," she says when I finally release her mouth.

I drop my forehead to hers with a smile. "No, I can't. If I stay, we won't leave your bed for days."

"And that's bad?"

"No, not bad. Just … not yet."

She pulls back. "Why not?"

I draw her back to me. "I want to do this right. You're worth the wait, and I'm not going to rush things."

She's quiet for a bit, sizing me up. "You're not … you're not like a born again virgin, are you?"

I laugh so loud it startles Jake, who scrambles to his feet in the corner, a ball of frizzy, damp dog. He trots over to investigate, licks my toes, then Bella's, and goes back to his bed.

"Bella, I promise you, when the time is right, I'm going to fuck you six ways from Sunday."

Her eyes go wide, and then she grins. "That's the kind of promise I can get behind."

I waggle my brows. "I can get behind it, too." My hand goes right to her ass, squeezing playfully.

.

-x-

.

We don't get much time together, between her classes and my grueling schedule. I'm working extra shifts to make up for the time off I'm taking for the Vegas trip in a week. We carve out a little time here and there, meet for lunch a couple times, and I pass out on her couch one afternoon during a _Parks and Rec_ binge. It's a good thing we've known each other for years, or we might not be able to get to know each other at all. We, however, fall into coupledom easily—we know each other's quirks, our likes and dislikes, and share a sense of humor. The only things not going our way are time together and the secret nature of our relationship.

I still have no idea what will happen when Emmett finds out about Bella and me, but the uncertainty isn't enough to stop me. What I feel when I'm with her … it's like nothing else.

She feels like home, and I won't give her up.

Today is one of those days that feels like I'm the only anesthesiologist in the entire hospital. I barely have time to breathe, but whenever I do get a break, I'm texting Bella, or she's texting me. It's our primary form of communication at the moment.

My phone buzzes with her latest text, and I grin before even reading it.

 **How many doctors does it take to change a light bulb?**

I respond with: **None. LED bulbs last 15+ years.**

Bella shoots back: **You're half right. Correct answer is: None. They'd call a nurse to do it for them.**

I snort a laugh. **Funny. Not me. I'm a hands-on kind of doctor.**

I don't realize how that reads until I've already hit send. Of course, Bella doesn't miss that kind of opportunity.

 **I'd like your hands on me, Doctor.**

Stifling a groan, I have to make an adjustment in my scrubs. Good thing I'm alone in the on-call room, because there's no hiding a semi in these things.

 **You can't say things like that. Not while I'm working, anyway. Any other time, please, feel free.**

She doesn't stop. **I'd like you to feel me freely.**

Even through my laughter, I can't help but picture her body, feeling it under my hands, and my semi rapidly grows.

 **Believe me. I'd like to feel you freely.**

 **Come over after your shift. I don't have class tomorrow.**

It sounds like heaven, but I don't want to keep her up. **I'm not out till midnight. You sure?**

Her reply is lightning quick. **Are you nuts? YES.**

I grin. **I'll feel you later, then.**

 **I can't wait ;)** , she replies.

My face practically aches from grinning. I can't wait, either.

Later, she greets me at the bottom of her stairs and throws herself into my arms. I kiss her like it's been months since I saw her last. It's only been a couple of days, but the more time we spend apart, the more desperate we become. I walk her backwards up the steps, my hands on her hips, slowly making progress as we kiss. When we reach the top, I pivot and press her into the wall, lifting her up level with my mouth.

"Well, hello there, Doctor," she purrs.

"Hello, Ms. Swan. How are we feeling today?" I ask with a grin, which she returns brightly.

"Frisky. So please, frisk me."

Laughing, I pinch her side. "Wrong profession. Also, terrible joke."

"I couldn't resist."

"You know what I can't resist?"

She shakes her head, with a wicked smile.

"You."

"Then kiss me already," she whispers, eyes going dark and liquid.

I crush my mouth to hers and moan as her tongue swirls with mine. Shoving my thigh between her legs, I push against her. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I cup her ass in both hands, pulling her into me. My dick is steel-hard, begging to be let loose, but I know it's not the right time, not yet. Right now, we can have this.

I kiss a line down her neck, nuzzling the tops of her tits through her tank top. Lower, I thrust as if I'm inside her, nice and slow, loving the sounds she makes. Her heat is scorching even through two layers of fabric, and I'm afraid I might lose it like some teenage boy. Trying to hold out longer, I step up my efforts to make Bella come. I squeeze her ass and slide one hand up to cup a breast, rubbing my thumb over her hard nipple. Her hands are in my hair, clenched in fists. Pushing her breast up, I yank her top down with my teeth, baring her to me. I take her in my mouth, licking and sucking and nibbling.

Bella lets go of my hair, moving to gripping at my shoulders as her hips meet mine. She nips at my earlobe and half-moans, "Feels so good … don't stop."

I pull away from her breast and look her in the eyes. "Not until you come."

She nods, biting her lip. Her eyes drift closed as I add a swivel to my hips, and I know it's just what she needs. I place my lips at her ear and whisper, "You're close, aren't you, love?" I pinch her nipple and she cries out, her whole body going stiff as she moans my name.

That's all it takes for me, too. I'm coming in my pants like a teenager, and it's better than anything I've ever had before. Everything with her is better, and there's only one explanation.

I'm falling for her.

.

.

.

* * *

 _So... finally, right?_

 _Thanks so much to SarcasticBimbo for featuring this story on her blog, Smut Sluts and Angst Whores (smutslutsandangstwhores . blogspot . com). If you want to laugh a lot and get good fic recs, check it out!_

 _See you Wednesday!_


	9. Chapter 9

_I take it you all liked the kiss. Awesome._

 _SarcasticBimbo keeps me in line and helps me rein in my little hands._

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINE—EDWARD**

.

.

.

Sandwiched between Emmett and Jasper is the last place I want to be, whether I'm flying in a metal tube or not. I'm thankful the flight to Vegas is less than two hours. My two friends talk around me while I brood, wishing I was sitting with Bella. I probably could have done it, if Alice hadn't suggested the girls all sit together. Bella, the little traitor, was all for it. However, it's probably for the best—I'm not sure I could keep my hands off her if we sat so close.

If I'm honest, I'm worried about this weekend. The six of us haven't spent this much concentrated time together since Bella and I got together. Concealing our relationship from the others, especially Emmett, seems like an impossible task. I can't help but feel like someone will catch us staring, or overhear something private, or witness a not-so-innocent touch. Because this is Vegas. Let's be honest. There will be touching. And staring. And private things.

"What are you brooding about?" Emmett asks, shoving my arm off the armrest. Jasper has the other one, so now I'm feeling even more like a hotdog stuffed in between two bums—I mean, buns.

"Being stuck between you two," I deadpan, and I'm only half lying.

"You lost, fair and square, man," Jasper chimes in, leaning into my personal space.

"Yeah, you suck at Rock, Paper, Scissors," Emmett taunts.

"It's a game of chance," I say, and grit my teeth.

"Well, that 'game of chance' made you it's bitch." Emmett and Jasper high-five above my head. "And you'd better get used to it, because Vegas is full of 'em."

With a long-suffering sigh, I lift my hand and manage to catch the attention of a flight attendant.

"Did you need something, sir?" She eyes the three of us, looking like Emmett does when there's a big, rare steak in front of him.

I order a whiskey. Emmett and Jasper copy me, and I doubt my decision to calm myself with alcohol. Because while it will lower my inhibitions (i.e. my annoyance), their whiskeys will only make them _more_ annoying.

Once we get our drinks, the two of them sober up. Ironic, right?

"Seriously, Edward. Something is up with you." Emmett gives me that cop look.

I start to sweat a little. Must be the alcohol. "Nothing's up. I'm just trying to decompress."

"Weren't you working every day?" Jasper asks, downing the rest of his drink like it's a shot.

"As much as hospital policy allows. I needed to build up the time off."

"For a weekend?" Emmett looks skeptical.

"No, for the wedding, too. I took that weekend and the week after off."

"Cool. 'Bout time you took a vacation. Staycation. Whatever." Jasper nods, waving for the flight attendant like she's a goddamn bartender. Of course, she comes running to give us more of those tiny bottles.

"Why do you need the week after the wedding off? Rose and I'll be gone for a few days." He's still giving me that damn look.

"And Alice and I are heading down to her parents' place. Her sister's visiting from New York with her kids. Yay." Jasper looks absolutely thrilled.

I took the time off to spend it with Bella, but I can't exactly explain that to Emmett. "Do I need your permission to take a vacation, Detective?" I ask, and take back the armrest.

"No, no. I'm sorry … it's just that you're acting weird lately."

"I don't know what to tell you, Emmett. I'm fine."

"You're worked up over a girl, aren't you?" Jasper takes me by surprise.

"Why would you think that?"

"Who is it?" Emmett asks at the same time.

Fuck.

Jasper replies, giving me a little more time to come up with a lie/explanation/deflection. "I'm good at that shit. I can sense it."

I laugh. "You can sense it? Come on. You're worse than Emmett's mom and her 'vibes'."

"Oh, man. Mom gets into some crazy shit," Emmett laughs, shaking his head. Then he levels me with a dead serious stare. "But back to you. You're never serious about women. Why brood about one?"

"I'm not brooding."

"But you're serious?"

"Who is it? Do we know her?" Jasper asks.

I feel like I'm watching a tennis match. I'm going to strain my neck.

"I don't want to talk about it," I say, hoping they'll take the hint.

"Ooh, he must be serious," Jasper teases, cracking open another one of those little bottles.

Emmett snorts. "He's never serious."

I scowl at him, wishing he'd give me a little more credit. I'm incredibly serious.

But I get the feeling if he knew I'm incredibly serious about his sister, he'd rearrange my face.

.

-x-

.

Emmett wants to play poker, and since it's his weekend, the groom gets what he wants. I'm not looking forward to this—Emmett's poker face is legendary, considering what he does for a living. As we sit down at a table featuring Texas Hold 'Em, I prepare to lose a large amount of money, unless I get miraculous cards. I front Emmett's $500 buy in.

"Consider it a bachelor gift. You can pay me back when you clean me out," I say wryly.

"What about me, dude?" Jasper pouts.

"Are you getting married?" I shoot back.

He smirks. "No, thank God. I'll never go through that again. Alice was a maniac."

"I know." Emmett laughs. "She tried to hijack mine."

We fall quiet as the game begins. I get some decent cards, to my surprise. About an hour in, I'm sitting on pocket Aces, with an Ace in the flop, waiting on the River. The dealer hands it down, and I try my best not to move one muscle, because now I've got a Full House—Aces and Queens. The community cards show A, 7, Q, Q, 7. It's down to Emmett and me, everyone else having folded when I bet high on the pocket Aces. He checks, I go all in. He matches my stack, and I know I've got him. I turn over my cards, ready to collect a rare win against Emmett, when I see what that fucker turned over.

Two sevens. Two motherfucking sevens.

I blow out a breath, and Emmett smirks at me. "Better luck next time, buddy." Everyone else at the table gives me commiserating looks, talking about bad beats.

"Good luck, man," I say to Jasper, shaking my head.

I point at Emmett in mock seriousness as I rise from the table. "I want my money back. See you guys later. Text me when you come out of the poker cave."

I head for one of the bars, intent on soothing my ruffled ego. I hate losing, no matter what the context. Fuck, I was _this close_ to having a win I could hold over his head for possibly _years_. I take a seat at the bar and order my usual, wishing I knew where Bella was. I'm pretty sure they're in the spa, and if I showed up there, Rose and Alice would definitely know something's up.

We've only been here a few hours, and already I'm missing her. Here, being apart seems worse, because we're literally in the same building (albeit a giant one), but we can't be together. In Seattle, we're close, but there are more concrete reasons we can't hang out—work, class … imposing family members. Here, we've got a whole weekend off, together, but can't spend it like we want to. Though, I suppose Emmett is a pretty concrete reason, as in concrete fists.

Part of me wants to just tell him. The other part of me knows I'm not good enough for Bella, and I know Emmett is of the opinion that no one is good enough for his baby sister. I don't exactly have a reputation, but I've never really been the type to settle down. I've never had a long-term relationship, though half of that is due to my career path. There just hasn't been the time or desire. It's different now. She changes things. I can't imagine not being with her.

As if my thoughts brought her to life, Bella, Rose, and Alice pass by the bar. Quickly, I toss some money on the counter, leaving my nearly full drink behind. I catch up with them in the midst of a bank of slot machines, where Rose is eyeing them like one has the key to the meaning of life.

"Hello, ladies." God, do I sound like the Ladies Man? Should I have a goblet of Courvoisier?

"Edward, hi." Bella's grin is too big for a casual greeting, but mine might be as well.

If the others notice, they don't mention it. Bella looks radiant in no makeup, hair up in a messy knot. Spa days certainly suit her. Hell, every day suits her. I can't tear my eyes away.

"Where are Emmett and Jasper?" Alice asks, looking around.

"Still in the poker room." I grimace.

"Got your ass handed to you, huh?" Rose surmises, smirking.

I scowl, making Bella laugh. "It was a bad beat. I had a full house, and that fucker pulled off four of a kind."

"That's my man," Rose brags with a happy grin, doing a little shimmy.

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet," I warn, "He's still in there." I don't want to wish bad luck on my friend, but that loss still stings.

"Emmett doesn't lose at poker," she states confidently.

I want to tell her that everyone loses at poker eventually, but she's already walking past me.

Alice follows. "I'm gonna go say hi to Jasper. You coming, Bella?"

"I'll hang back here. Text me," she says with a little wave, and then we're alone.

Well, as alone as two people can get in a mega casino.

Bella turns to me with a sweet, blinding smile. "What are the chances? We must be lucky today."

My own smile is wry. "The only luck I've had today is you."

"Okay, so we've established I'm lucky." She grabs my hand and pulls me toward a row of slots. "There's a jackpot here with my name on it."

"You're holding his hand," I joke, laughing when she looks back and rolls her eyes playfully. She almost crashes into a slot machine and I yank our hands back, pulling her up against my chest. She looks up at me, startled. "Jackpot," I whisper, and then my mouth is on hers. It's slow and soft, and I take my time, since we're hidden by a sea of people. I try to keep it decent, but the kiss slides into dangerous territory when her tongue moves with mine. Dialing it back, I press one final, soft kiss on her mouth.

"I've missed you," I murmur against her lips as we part.

"Same," she sighs. "It sucks, being this close, but not being close. Do you know what I mean?"

I smile softly. "Exactly what you mean. Do you think they'd notice if we disappeared for a few hours?"

"Probably. We're all meeting up for dinner soon anyway."

I look at my watch. "Wow. I didn't realize it was this late."

"That's how the casino likes it."

"So, dinner in forty-five minutes. We've got a little time to kill. Think we can avoid the others for that long?" I ask with a devious grin.

She returns one of her own. "Follow me. There's another jackpot to be found."

We weave our way through the various machines, hand in hand, with Bella trying to find one that "speaks" to her. I don't mind; I'm happy just getting to hold her hand. We look like any other couple, flirting and talking our way through the maze of slots, and I'm having more fun right now than I've had the entire trip so far.

Familiar voices sound to the left; amongst the bells and whistles of slot machines, I can hear Emmett's boisterous laugh.

"Shit," I hiss, "Over here." I guide us a few aisles left of the voices and peer over the row. All four of them are heading toward us, but Bella is inserting money into a slot machine with a giant fireball on it. We're trapped.

"Here we go!" Bella chooses the max bet and presses the button … and then unthinkable happens.

Bells go off. Lights flash. Matching symbols line up across the display.

"Ohmygod! I won!" She throws her arms around me and jumps up and down.

Emmett and the others have caught sight of us by now, and all I can think about is how her tits are bouncing up and down against my chest. I try to will my dick into submission, but it's not working. Good thing I'm wearing jeans. They're pretty restrictive.

"Well, shit, Bells! Good for you," Emmett booms as he reaches us. "Aww, Ed, are you her good luck charm, too?" He looks down at Bella, who practically jumps away from me in response to his question. "Did he tell you how I kicked his ass at Hold 'Em?"

The trash talk and congratulations evolve from there—and that's the story of how I lost five hundred bucks to Emmett, and Bella won five grand at slots.

.

-x-

.

We spend most of the next day out at the pool, having rented one of the cabanas.

It's a day of torture. Seeing Bella in a bikini, watching her spread sunscreen over all that soft, pale skin, has my hands itching to take over the job. I'm jealous of Alice when she offers to do Bella's back.

"What's up with you, Edward?" Emmett looks over to where I'm staring, and I hope I haven't blown it. "Oh, the redhead? She's looking at you like you're something to eat," he says with a smirk. "You going after that?"

I didn't even notice the over the top redhead just beyond Bella. Relieved, I shake my head. "Nah. No time."

"Invite her out tonight. Jasper and I'll make sure you get enough time in the room to get it in."

I scoff. "Fuck, no. Good to know you think so highly of me." At this rate, he's never going to accept me being with Bella if he thinks I'm up for his suggestion.

Emmett holds up his hands. "Sorry. I mean, this _is_ the city of sin."

"I'm here to spend time with my friends, not some random showgirl wannabe." I'm grouchy now, swiping sunscreen on with quick, rough movements.

"Aww, Ed, don't be mad. Want me to get your back? We _are_ friends," he teases.

"Fuck off, Emmett," I shoot back, though there's no heat behind it. He's just being his normal self.

Emmett calls over to Bella. "Hey, sis! Edward won't let me touch him with my manly hands. Come do his back."

This is almost as embarrassing as his redhead suggestion. He's asked Bella to rub my back as if I'm too shy or too cowardly to do it myself. I might as well pass her a note asking her to do so, and to check yes or no.

Bella looks like a deer in the headlights. I can practically see her trying to keep her cool. "Sure," she finally says, avoiding eye contact as she makes her way over.

Mute, I hand her the sunscreen and turn around, my body tense as her gentle hands touch my sun-warmed skin. I feel like everyone's watching, and I'm pissed that we're not alone. I want her to explore every inch of me, but not out here in front of God, most of the hotel guests, and Emmett. Especially not Emmett.

Bella's fingers smooth the lotion over the back of my neck, over my shoulders and upper back, and down to the waistband of my trunks. Every single touch, every stroke, is a lick of flame, and I grit my teeth against the lust that threatens to overtake me. Miraculously, my dick behaves, for once—probably because he knows this is a life or death situation.

"There you go," Bella says, clearing her throat.

I whip around to find her eyes dark and lustful as she hands me the sunscreen. I smirk down at her, raising a brow as a tiny smile plays at her lips. It's then I know I've been played. As much as she enjoyed touching me, she enjoyed torturing me in front of her brother just as much.

We're lucky he wasn't paying attention. He's busy rubbing sunscreen all over Rose's back.

Once we're all lubed up, drinks in hand, the women go sit poolside while we remain at the cabana. Emmett turns his attention back to me.

"Since you're not looking to score for the night, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure. As long as you're not planning some Ocean's Eleven type heist."

"This might be harder," he says, with an extremely serious expression. "I need you to look out for Bella. Keep the creepers away."

"Okay … but you do realize Bella can take care of herself."

"She's too nice. Too trusting."

I bust up laughing. "She grew up with a cop father. You're a cop. How can she be too trusting?"

He considers this, then shakes his head. "I just don't want her doing anything reckless tonight."

I start to get angry, but stuff it back down. "Wait. So you were just encouraging me to, and I quote, 'get it in,' but if your sister wants to do the same thing, I'm supposed to keep her from doing just that?" Oh, I'll keep her from doing it—with anyone else but me.

"That's different. You're a guy, and you're a lot older."

"You're unbelievably sexist." I shake my head in disgust. "Admit you don't want to think about your sister's sex life. That sounds so much better than what just came out of your mouth."

And as long as he doesn't want to think about his sister's sex life, maybe I won't have to worry about him noticing that her sex life is about to be centered around me.

"Well, yeah. Goes without saying."

"Good." I pause, letting him hang for my own amusement. "And yeah, I'll watch out for Bella, if she needs it."

"Thanks. I know she's in good hands, then." He settles back into his lounge chair and lets out a huge sigh. He's snoring within minutes. Jasper joins the women, leaving me to my thoughts.

Bella may be in good hands, but I just don't see how I can keep those hands to myself.

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* * *

 _So... is what happens in Vegas gonna stay in Vegas?_

 _Thank you to the ladies at TLS (tehlemonadestand . blogspot . com) for the rec. Check out the other awesome stories on the list this week.  
_

 _Thank you all for reading._

 _See you Sunday!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Oh, the theories! I love them._

 _SarcasticBimbo is my lovely beta with eagle eyes._

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 **CHAPTER TEN — BELLA**

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This is a waste of my time.

I'm dressed to impress in a shimmery, dark blue minidress and killer black gladiator heels. My hair and makeup have been done by the masters—Rose and Alice. We're in one of Vegas' hottest clubs … and I'm bored. I don't want to yell over the pounding music, I don't really want to drink, and I don't want to keep having to turn down men who aren't the one I really want.

The guys have gone to get drinks, leaving the three of us alone, looking like fresh meat. I'm slightly mollified by the caliber of some of the men who come inquiring, but the others are weird and creepy, like the Roxbury dudes. I can practically hear "What Is Love" each time one of them approaches. Finally, I decide I can't take anymore. Maybe I can catch Edward on the way out and get him to meet me somewhere.

"I've got a headache," I yell at Alice, even though we're sitting right next to each other on the glowing white couch. Thumping bass vibrates my bones and strobe lights paint the room in a splash of rainbow-colored explosions. If I really had a headache, this place would crack my skull and make my brain melt out of my ears. Truth is, I don't feel like being badgered to dance with a bunch of random men just because Alice and Rose decided I need to live a little. They want to live vicariously through me, is more like it.

"You drank too much at the pool, didn't you?" asks Rosalie, though I have no idea how she heard me, way over on the other side of Alice.

I nod. "Yep. Too many margaritas."

Alice shakes her head. "I told you to stick with vodka. It's cleaner."

What the hell? How can alcohol be clean? "I think I'm gonna go to bed. I'll see you guys in the morning."

Sympathetic, Rose reaches over and pats me on the leg. "We'll try not to wake you up when we get in, okay?"

I smile, actually meaning it. I love Rose, and I'm glad she'll be my sister soon. "Thanks. Don't worry about being too loud. I'm sure you won't wake me."

"Go, lie down. This place isn't great for someone with a headache," Alice yells, wincing. "We'll miss you!"

We hug it out and I make my way toward the exit. As I make my way around the dance floor, I see Edward heading in my direction. When we meet, he doesn't say anything, but takes my hand and leads me from the club. We spill out into the casino, squinting at the bright lighting.

He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close. "Do you have to go back?"

I grin up at him and shake my head. "Nope. I have a headache." I circle my own arms around his waist and enjoy the feel of him so close.

Bringing a hand up to brush over my forehead, he frowns. "You do? I have some ibuprofen in my bag upstairs—"

"I lied. No headache," I laugh. "But it's so nice you're concerned."

He smirks. "I was just trying to get you up to my room."

I put a hand on his chest and drag it down. "All you have to do is ask."

Dropping his forehead to mine, he chuckles. "You'll be the death of me, woman."

"Why? I'm perfectly willing to let you have your wicked way with me."

He looks as if he's in pain. "We can't, Bella. Not here. I'm sharing a suite with Emmett and Jasper, and you're with Rose and Alice."

"And they're all in the club getting hammered! No one is coming out of there for hours."

Lifting his head to look me in the eyes, he says, "I want all night with you. I don't want the chance of being interrupted hanging over our heads. Bella, when we take that last step … hours won't be enough."

Well, damn. If that's not the hottest, yet sweetest thing I've ever heard. I don't even mind being shot down. I can't even come up with an appropriate response—his argument has scrambled my brain a little.

"You wanna gamble?" he asks, a boyish grin lighting up his face.

I smirk. "I thought you said you didn't want to go upstairs and do it."

Rolling his eyes, he returns, "I meant here. In the casino."

"I know. I had to try."

He just shakes his head and grabs my hand again, towing me toward some table games.

"Let's play slots," I suggest, but he scoffs at me.

"You looking to throw away your money?"

"I could win the jackpot again."

"And monkeys could fly out of my ass."

I giggle. "Okay, Wayne. Should I get on my knees and chant, 'I'm not worthy'?"

"Sure thing, Foxy Lady. But I'd rather you get on your knees and do something else," he whispers in my ear as we reach a Blackjack table.

"Make up your mind, already, Edward," I gripe in a quiet voice as we take our seats at an empty table.

Saying nothing, he just smiles smugly and pulls several bills out of his wallet and lays them on the table with a casino card. "Have you ever played?"

I shake my head. "Not really. I played a couple times at some party in college, but I don't remember much about it other than you want to get to twenty-one." I snort a laugh. "Pretty similar to the first two years of college. We're all just trying to get to twenty-one so we can buy alcohol legally."

The dealer slides over a few stacks of chips and his card. "Five hundred dollars, Mr. Cullen. Good luck."

My eyes go wide as Edward pushes half the chips to me. "Oh, no. I'm just watching you play."

"I'm going to teach you. Consider it a loan; you can pay me back later. I'll also keep any of your winnings," he offers, winking at me.

I can tell there will be no arguing, so I sigh and place a five-dollar chip in the circle. Stubborn man. I can afford this—I did win a jackpot.

"Minimum bet is twenty-five, Miss," the dealer informs me, while Edward snickers and points to a little sign on the side of the table.

Scowling, I put down four more chips. "You're a bad teacher already." Twenty-five bucks a hand? Yikes.

The game begins, and I'm dealt a fourteen. Edward has a twenty, and the dealer shows a five. I'm up first.

Edward stands, and instructs me to do the same.

"But I'm nowhere close to twenty-one," I reason. "I'm losing already."

"You have to assume the dealer's hidden card is a ten. If his top card is six or less, he'll have to draw, and the likelihood of him busting is high. If you hit right now, you'll get his card, and if it's a high one, you'll bust."

"Okay…" I sort of get it. Might take me a few hands, though.

I wave my hand over the cards, and the dealer flips over his bottom card. Ten. He slides another card from the shoe, turns it over, and it's a nine.

Edward grins at me. "See? You did well. I'm a great teacher."

I laugh and shake my head. "We'll see."

He slowly teaches me the game, advising me on when to hit or stand, coaxing me to place higher and higher bets. I go on a huge streak, and while Edward breaks even, I come away with $1500. When we cash in our chips at the cage, I almost piss myself. I try to give him back the money, but he won't hear of it—not even the original $250. I've netted $6500 in less than forty-eight hours. That's more than I make in a semester of TA work. Talk about beginner's luck!

"You can pay for the celebratory drinks," he concedes.

I agree, since drinks out here are ridiculously expensive. We find a dark, swanky bar that's busy, but not packed. A secluded love seat opens up just as we enter, and we snag it immediately. Edward pulls me down on his lap, and I snuggle into his chest, laying my head on his shoulder.

A cocktail waitress comes by and we each order a fancy "craft cocktail" in honor of my Blackjack domination. Edward's has whiskey and mine vodka, but other than that I can't tell you what else is in them. Probably artisanal organic ginger, muddled mountain orchid leaves, and pretentiousness. All I know is they'd better taste good—each one is more expensive than two burrito bowls at Chipotle. But hey, I can afford it tonight.

"That was fun," I tell him as we sip our drinks.

"It always is when you win," Edward says wryly.

"If you'd let me give the money back you'd be the winner." I look at him pointedly.

"I'm already the winner." A slight smile softens his lips as he brushes some hair behind my ear.

His hand cups my neck and pulls me closer, so he can press a chaste kiss to my mouth. He lingers, and the kiss grows into a slow, heated exchange. His tongue swirls over mine and I drink him in, melting into his body. I fist my hands in his shirt, needing an anchor to keep my fingers from wandering to places they shouldn't be in public.

A loud whistle pierces my ears, and we jerk apart.

"Get her, man!"

"Looks like he's already got her, dude."

"Go get it in!"

All the voices are behind me, and I don't dare turn around to see who they're from. On the bright side, none of them are familiar, but I'm still red as a tomato.

Edward just laughs and asks, "Wanna get out of here?"

I nod. Like there's any other answer.

Drinks forgotten, I shove money in the black folio on the table. Edward stands, offering me his hand, and doesn't let go until we reach the suite I share with Rose and Alice. I peek inside to make sure they aren't back yet, then tug Edward inside behind me. I lock the deadbolt and pull the security lever to buy us time if needed.

"I had fun tonight. Learning Blackjack with you was infinitely better than having my ass grabbed by drunk fools all night."

His face goes dark. "Guys were grabbing your ass?"

"I was talking about Rose and Alice." I can't believe I say it with a straight face.

Chuckling, he grabs me by the hips, tugging me into his body. "Much better visual."

"You're a freak."

"All guys are freaks."

"You've got that right."

"But you like me this way." His voice has gone quiet, and we're not joking anymore.

"You know I do." I more than like him.

He squeezes my hips as my hands find their way back to his shirt, which I use to pull him down to me. There's no slow start to this kiss—it starts out incendiary and escalates to an inferno in seconds. We consume each other; we are oxygen and fire. His hands slide to my ass and he yanks me up against him, lifting my feet off the floor. I link my arms around his neck and nip at his lips, tugging with my teeth and soothing with my tongue.

He walks us to the love seat in the sitting area, sinking down with me straddling his lap. The little dress I'm wearing rides up so high almost all of my thigh is visible. Edward takes full advantage, smoothing his palms from hip to knee and back again. I shiver at the feel of his hands on my bare skin and wiggle closer. I can feel him, hard beneath his jeans, and I rock against him again.

He yanks his mouth from mine and drops his forehead to my shoulder, breathing hard. "Fuck," he mutters, clamping his hands on my hips to hold me still. "What are we doing?"

I'm not sure if he's asking a rhetorical question, but I answer anyway. "You know, that thing boys and girls do when they like each other?"

Edward's body shakes under mine, and when he lifts his face to mine, his eyes shine with laughter, matching his grin. He's beautiful, and right now I want nothing more than to make him feel good.

"Just go with it. I want to make you feel good. Let me, please?"

We stare at one another for what seems like forever, and then he starts sliding his hands up and down my thighs again, achingly slow. I lower my head and drag my mouth along his jaw, the scruff there making my lips tingle. I do it again, then kiss a line down his throat as I begin rocking my hips again. Edward tips his head back and a low moan escapes his lungs. One of his hands wanders up and threads into my hair, pulling my head up for a kiss. I place a hand on his face, feeling his mouth move with mine.

His other hand slips beneath my dress, fingers sliding past the lace of my panties. I whimper against his lips as he dips a finger into my wetness, then pushes it inside.

"I can't wait to be inside you," he whispers, half kiss and half words. "It's gonna be so good." He adds another finger and curls both as he thrusts, and I wonder if I'll survive the real thing when his fingers feel this good.

I'm past words as I ride his hand, dropping my forehead to his and hanging on for dear life. His free hand wanders my back, grazes my ass, skims my side, all in a slow, frustrating circuit. Finally, he cups my breast, thumb circling my nipple. I roll my hips, reaching for that pinnacle, letting his breath, his touch, his kisses wash over me in a wave of sensation.

I cry out as I come, and he drinks it in with an appreciative moan of his own. I tuck my head into his shoulder, breathing hard. He runs his hands up and down my back as I calm, but as the minutes tick by, I can't ignore the hard line of his erection beneath me. I push up with my hands on his chest and smile down at him … and then I slide down to my knees.

His expression morphs from surprised to needy in an instant, and I'd love nothing more than for him to beg me to suck his cock. I'm going to do it regardless, but he's the only person I'd appreciate hearing those words from.

"I recall you mentioning wanting me on my knees, Edward. Is this what you had in mind?"

"Fuck, yes," he grunts.

I figured he'd be a harder sell, but maybe he's reached his limit. Maybe the thrill of possibly getting caught does it for him.

With a wicked smile, I glide my hands up his thighs, palming his cock on the way up to his belt buckle. I push his shirt halfway up his torso before returning to unbuckle his belt, copping a feel of every inch of his abs on the way down. Leather and metal easily give way, as does the button of his jeans. The sound of his zipper is one of the most erotic I've heard at this moment in time, and the outline of his dick beneath royal blue boxer briefs is the sexiest damn thing I've ever seen.

He lifts his hips to help me tug the jeans down enough to make room, and watches as I pull back the elastic band of his briefs and take his dick out. He's long and thick, and I bite my lip when I imagine what he'll feel like inside me. Fuck.

I look up to find Edward watching me, mouth slightly open, eyes glazed. There's a flush high on his cheeks, and his hair is more mussed than usual. He's fucking beautiful. Wrapping my hand around the base of his cock, I swipe my tongue over the tip, loving the groan that rumbles in his chest. I can taste him, bitter salt on the back of my tongue. While he watches, I lick up the line of him before taking him into my mouth and going down, down. My hair falls in a curtain over his hips.

"Bella," he gasps, one hand wrapping my hair around his fist so he can see.

His fingers pull a bit in their desperation, but I love it. I love it all: his smell, his taste, his sounds. I work him over, my hand making up for what won't fit, using all the tips and tricks in my Cosmo-contributed arsenal to drive him crazy. It's working, judging by the sounds coming out of his mouth and the way he's struggling not to just fuck my mouth. I know he's close, so I place my free hand over his hand in my hair, pushing down, giving him permission to move.

"Yeah? Oh, goddamn it, Bella… I…" His hips thrust up, almost making me choke.

He gets a handle on it, finding a rhythm that works for us. The pace quickens, I increase the suction, and finally cup his balls in my hand, giving them a gentle tug.

He taps my shoulder, but I don't move away. "I'm gonna come," he pants, and I'm amazed he can form a sentence.

I take him deeper, making eye contact. Hand tightening in my hair, he thrusts harder, and I let him this time, fighting my gag reflex. He moans my name as he comes, and the sound is enough to outweigh what seems like an excessive amount of semen. It's never easy, and it's never delicious, no matter what anyone says. I lay my head on his thigh as he comes down, mentally patting myself on the back. That was the most satisfying blow job I've ever given, not that there've been many. This time, I actually enjoyed every minute. Judging from Edward's blissed out face and heavy breathing, he did too.

"Get up here," he says when he can finally breathe again. He pulls me up next to him and plants a kiss right on my lips, no hesitation, even though I just spent the last ten minutes with his cock in my mouth. I can't lie; it's hot, how he's so uninhibited with me. The exchange becomes deeper, more intense, and he guides me down on the loveseat. Hovering on top of me, he bunches my dress up around my waist and slides a hand underneath. His fingers graze the lace of my bra, pulling the cup down. He toys with my nipple, kissing his way to my ear, where he sucks on the sensitive skin just beneath.

I'm beginning to wonder if he's changed his mind about the sex. I'm about to suggest we move to a bed, when someone tries to open the door.

"Bella, let us in, please!"

"We have to pee!"

Shit. Shitshitshit! We're trapped.

"Shit!" we both hiss, echoing my thoughts, and scramble apart. However, Rose and Alice sound completely annihilated—which might work in our favor.

Edward tucks himself back into his boxers and jeans while I try to smooth my dress and hair. I know they think I came back here to rest, so answering the door still fully dressed won't work. Quickly, I strip off my dress and take off my shoes—which seems a lot more fucking complicated than it was to put them on.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Edward half whispers, half whines, his eyes glued to my half-naked body.

I head for the closet and grab one of the complimentary robes, throwing it on. "Get in here. They can't see you, unless you want everyone to know. Once they pass out, I'll sneak you out of here."

He wavers, which makes me smile, but he ultimately chooses the closet.

All the while, Rose and Alice have been whining outside, so I put on my best sleepy face and unbolt the door.

"Took you long enough," Alice grumbles as she stumbles through the threshold.

Rose hobbles inside, trying desperately to beat Alice to the bathroom. She has longer legs, so she wins, but doesn't even bother to close the door.

"Sweet fuck, I had to piss like a fucking racehorse," Rose yells over the sound of her pee stream.

I have to laugh into my hand, knowing Edward is trapped in the closet, an unwilling witness. There's no way he can't hear; the closet is right across from the bathroom.

"Why didn't you go at the club?" I ask.

"Have you seen those lines to the women's room?" Alice responds, crossing her legs right outside the bathroom door. She looks like a little girl doing the potty dance.

"We're so done," Rose says. "I thought Emmett was gonna commit murder down there. Alice and Jasper made out and took shots all night, you've been up here, Edward disappeared, and there are idiot ass grabbers all over. So basically, Emmett spent all night fending off morons who think it's fine to ask an obviously taken woman to dance with them." By this time, she's finished and flushed, washing her hands.

Alice races in, also not shutting the door. As she does her business, she farts, long and loud. I never knew such a sound could come out of someone so small as Alice.

"You're the worst, Alice," Rose says.

Rose and I laugh aloud, being completely immature.

"I've been holding that one in forever," Alice sighs.

"We were in a loud club. It's not like anyone would hear you if you let one fly."

"You know I don't fart in front of Jasper." Alice comes out of the bathroom, tugging on her dress. "Men are happier if they think their women don't fart."

Poor Edward, hiding in that closet. He's either disgusted or having a hard time holding in his own laughter.

"Too late," Rose laughs.

"Emmett probably loves it. He's the fart king." I should know. He's only crop dusted me a million times.

Cackling, Rose nods. "What's he call them? Barking spiders?"

"And Butt Ducks."

"Creaky Boards."

"Air Tulips."

"Don't forget the O-ring Oboe."

"Wow, you're marrying a real winner," Alice teases. I give her a high-five before realizing she never washed her hands. I scurry to the restroom and lather up, wishing it was antibacterial, instead of the froufrou face bar provided by the hotel.

I come out and find Alice holding up my dress.

"In a hurry to get undressed, Bella?" She arches a brow at me, suddenly looking a lot more sober than she had minutes before.

I make a face. "It was uncomfortable." It's not, unless you count how uncomfortable it made me when I'd have rather been naked with Edward.

"You should clean up your mess, Bella," she says, pointing at me and swaying a little.

Okay, so she's still drunk. Good.

"You should close the door when you pee. And you should wash your hands," I return, grinning when she realizes I'm right.

"Oh my God." She makes another run for the bathroom.

Rose and I simply shake our heads at one another, while she stifles a yawn. "I'm out, Bella. See you girls in the morning." She disappears into the master bedroom of the two-room suite, the door clicking shut behind her.

"We should all get to bed, if we want to be up before noon," I say as Alice comes out of the bathroom, knowing hell will freeze over if those drunks are awake before one at least. They're lucky our flight isn't until tomorrow evening.

Grabbing my face wash, I start to get ready for bed while I wait for Alice to pass out. I yelp when she appears right behind me in the mirror, like some kind of drunk kewpie doll.

"Where'd you get that robe, Bella? I want one."

I panic a little, knowing where the only other robe is—in the closet, currently hiding my secret boyfriend.

I quickly finish washing my face and yank the robe off, holding it out. "Here, take this. I'm going to get in my PJs anyway." I toss it at her and make a beeline for my luggage in the other room, not even caring that I'm only in lingerie. Hopefully by the time Alice gets the robe off her head, I'll already be wearing the t-shirt I call pajamas. When I return to the sitting area, I legit have a heart attack when I see her heading for the closet.

"That's the only robe! I took it, I'm sorry. I needed something comfy, you know, because of my dress and the headache," I babble.

She scowls. "This is a two-bedroom suite. I'm calling Housekeeping. There should be at least two in there."

I do a little wince-shrug thing, trying to look innocent and apologetic. "Sorry?"

Looking at the clock, Alice sighs. "I suppose Housekeeping isn't working at three A.M."

It's Vegas. They probably are, but I'm not about to enlighten her.

"We can call tomorrow for more robes," I promise. Anything to placate her. I'm sure Edward is getting tired of hiding, and the sooner I can get this drunk mess to bed, the sooner I can spring him.

"Okay." She yawns hugely and throws the robe over her shoulders like a feather boa. "I'm gonna sleep now. Nighty night." With that, she shuffles toward the second bedroom, closing the door behind her.

I sink down on the loveseat in relief, letting out a huge breath. I can't believe that just happened, and Edward and I didn't get caught. A light tapping on the closet door reminds me to actually let him out. I hurry over and quietly open the door, covering my mouth to keep from laughing when I see him.

His hair is completely fucked up and his eyes are wide. He looks traumatized, but then he starts snickering, then chuckling, making me slap a hand over his mouth. I drag him to the bathroom and lock the door, praying my friends are passed out for good. We're pushing our luck here, but I need someone to laugh with about this whole night, and he's the perfect person. He's _my_ perfect person.

"I'd say I'm sorry you had to hear all that, but…" I have to smother a giggle, "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

He wraps his arms around my waist and bends to muffle a laugh in my neck. "More information than I ever wanted to know," he says as he straightens, keeping his voice low. "But I've got great blackmail material."

I give him a serious look. "Edward, I'm pretty sure Emmett knows you know about his flatulence problem."

"Who do you think came up with Air Tulip?"

"Gross." I begin to remember all the times Edward joined in on the crop dusting when I was a kid, and start to reconsider his status as my perfect person. He's still my _favorite_ person, but…

"I'm kidding, Bella," he chuckles, then says, "It was Butt Duck."

"Of course it was."

"Are we really wasting precious time talking about this?" He shakes his head. "Only us."

I grin. "Only us."

"I've gotta go. We're pushing it. Quick, kiss me." Bending down, he cups my cheek and kisses me hard.

I grip his shirt at the sides, going up on tiptoe to meet him. A simple, quick kiss goodbye turns slow and deep, his tongue in my mouth and our hands all over each other.

His touch ghosts down my back and under my t-shirt, palming my ass. He's hard against my belly, making me wish for things that are impossible for the moment. No matter how much I want him to put me on that vanity and fuck me, it would be incredibly stupid.

Stupid is sounding pretty good right about now.

We pull apart at the same time, giving each other sheepish smiles.

"See you tomorrow?" he asks quietly, almost shyly.

"Tomorrow." I give him one last hug, and he presses one last, sweet kiss to my lips.

I peek my head out of the bathroom to make sure everything's clear, then lead Edward to the door.

"See you later," he whispers, and then he's gone.

I press my back to the door, breathing a sigh of relief and longing. Nothing on earth could wipe the spacey grin off my face.

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* * *

 _Thanks for reading! See you Wednesday._


	11. Chapter 11

_Vegas was fun, wasn't it? Lots more fun than my trips have been. I just come home with a lighter wallet and a hangover, LOL._

 _SarcasticBimbo cleans up my messes, but I tinker. Any mistakes are mine._

* * *

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN—BELLA**

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In the two weeks leading up to Rose and Emmett's wedding, Edward and I hardly see each other. We text frequently, and manage a couple phone calls. He's working extra shifts to make up for the time off he's taken, and I've only just finished my finals, so we've both been busy. When we do manage to see each other, all we do is eat and sleep. Well, he sleeps, and I watch him. He falls asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow, and sleeps like the dead, except for his expressions. He smiles, frowns, scowls, even looks goofy at times. It's fascinating.

The night before the wedding, Edward shows up at my place around midnight, dressed in his usual wrinkled, navy-blue scrubs. His hair is a mess and there are dark circles under his eyes. But his gaze is warm and happy when I open the door, and he rushes at me with the energy of a kid.

"I'm free," he laughs, spinning me around. He smothers my cry of surprise with a short, hard kiss. "One whole, hospital-free week, and it's all mine!" He cackles maniacally as he sets me back on the floor.

I shake my head, but can't help grinning. "You need sleep. Badly."

"I do," he agrees, yawning as he collapses on the couch with a contented sigh. "But I want to talk to you more." His stomach growls with the fervor of a hungry bear. "You wouldn't happen to have any of those chocolate chip cookies, would you?"

The fool actually bats his eyelashes at me. He's so damn cute.

"I have some dough in the freezer. It will take a little bit to get the oven heated."

"I'll wait," he says eagerly, lacing his hands over his belly and resting his head back on the couch.

"You do that," I laugh, then head into the kitchen to get the cookie dough. While the oven comes to temperature, I grab a beer for Edward and head back to the living room, where he's is already sound asleep and snoring. Even his snore is adorable. Deciding to let him rest, I take a swig of the beer and set it down on the coffee table before carefully tucking myself into his side. I look up at his face, relaxed and boyish in sleep, and remember every single time I longed for this moment—that special place in time when he'd be mine and I'd be his.

It's finally here. It's quiet and simple, but it's no less monumental to me. I've dreamed of this man for so long, and though I thought I knew him all these years, now there's so much more. He's always been Emmett's friend, Emmett's wingman. I think that's how he had to categorize himself, to make it easier to keep himself away from me. But now, he's mine. He gives me everything he once held back. Gone is the brother figure, and the man is left behind. The only one I ever wanted.

The oven signals it's ready with a loud beep, but Edward doesn't stir, except to mumble, "Cookies."

Figures. I can still hear his stomach growling, even in his sleep. I make quick work of getting the cookies in to bake, stifling a yawn as I set the timer on my phone. It's almost one, and Alice will be pounding on my door bright and early. The wedding isn't until 6 p.m., but she's got a multitude of beauty treatments on the schedule, which means it's gonna be an all-day event.

I turn my attention to Edward, who's looking pretty goofy at the moment. His brows are raised, mouth pursed like he's whistling. I could spend all night watching his expressions, and the timer's going off before I know it. Reluctantly, I leave him on the couch and take the cookies from the oven. I'm sliding them onto the cooling rack when I feel a warm hand at the small of my back.

"I thought I smelled cookies." He rests his chin on my head and watches me as I transfer the last cookie to the rack.

"Pretty sure you were dreaming about them. You said 'cookies' like the Cookie Monster does, then did the Homer Simpson drool."

He chuckles. "I did not … did I?" He looks puzzled, and it's adorable.

Why does sleep deprivation look so good on him? It turns me into a cranky, hungry bitch with watery raccoon eyes. Edward gets all cute and loopy.

"No, but you did say 'cookies.'"

"Of course I did," he says, reaching around me to grab one, "these are the best cookies on the planet." Shoving half a cookie in his mouth, he moans in delight. "Thank you," he says with a full mouth, and I don't even care that it's rude.

I could live off compliments from this man.

"You're welcome. Eat as many as you want." My grin is a mile wide as I go to the fridge. "Milk?"

I get a garbled response that I assume means yes. Pouring him a tall glass and handing it over, I ask, "When's the last time you ate?"

Shrugging, he says, "I can't remember. Lunch, maybe? Too busy."

Every sentence is between huge bites of cookie. I'm guessing it was lunch, if he even ate then. I frown. "You should take better care of yourself."

He winks. "Why, when I have you to do it for me?"

"Funny." I may protest, but I'll gladly do it for him.

Six cookies and two glasses of milk later, Edward sighs in contentment. "Best dinner ever."

"Not the most nutritious," I laugh, "but I'm glad you enjoyed them. Thank you."

A frown mars his handsome face. "I guess I should get home. I'm sure Rose and Alice expect you early tomorrow morning."

"Why don't you stay here and sleep? It's after one, and I'd worry if you drove like this."

"As much as I'd love to sleep here, I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"I need the sleep as much as you do. Please, stay here. I'll worry otherwise."

Finally, he shakes his head, grinning. "Okay. But hands off the goods," he jokes.

"Same to you," I retort, happy he's agreed.

He pouts. "Well, that's no fun."

"We'll just cuddle."

Laughing, he says, "I think that's my line."

I giggle, and take his hand, leading him to my room. I quickly brush my teeth and dress in an oversized t-shirt, then let him use the bathroom while I get settled in bed. My heart is pounding, even though I know we're just going to sleep. It's new and exciting, an intimate first that I'll never forget.

He strolls out of the bathroom in a pair of boxer briefs that should be illegal. God, he's so hot, and I'm addicted to the sight of him. He should be classified as a controlled substance. I don't know how I'll keep my hands off him once he gets in this bed, but we both need to sleep. As much as my lizard brain wants to ride him like a jockey on a thoroughbred, the rational, logical part knows I don't want to deal with Alice even more sleep deprived. Because once Edward and I get to the good stuff, I don't think we'll be able to stop.

"Don't you own a shirt?" I joke, smirking his way.

That cheeky grin appears on his face, making my stomach drop in the most delicious way.

"I do, but it smells like hospital."

Wrinkling my nose, I respond, "Yuck."

"Exactly."

"Okay, I guess it's okay. Just this once."

Rolling his eyes, he sets the alarm on his phone, then flops onto the bed, flat on his back, his arm landing on my chest. I push it off, and it lands over his face.

"Hey," he protests. "My arm was enjoying your boobs."

"Your arm doesn't exactly do it for me, Edward."

Moving his arm, he gives me a hurt look. "I thought you liked all of me. I'm devastated."

I roll onto my side and look down at him. "I do. But the back of your arm isn't exactly dextrous."

"I'll show you dextrous," he promises in a mock serious voice. Pulling me down with a hand on the back of my neck, he gives me a demonstration, with his very dextrous tongue. When he's finished, I'm lying fully atop him, thoroughly enjoying the feel of all his body parts.

"Why do we have to sleep again?" I ask, in a daze.

He sighs. "I'm not sure. I'm too sleep deprived to think."

"Oh. Yeah, that would be the reason."

Arms wrapped around me, he gives me a tight hug. "Tomorrow," he whispers, placing a sweet kiss behind my ear.

We maneuver in the bed until he's spooned behind me, tucked in tight. I sigh in bliss, wishing, hoping, that one day soon, we can do this every night.

"Good night, Edward."

I wait for a response, but all I get is a tightening of his arm around my waist. He's already asleep. I follow not long after, dreaming of the day we don't have to hide how we feel about each other.

.

—x—

.

The wedding goes perfectly. The flowers arrive on time, there are no dress mishaps, and Rose remembers to bring all her lingerie. It was her biggest fear, that she'd forget her underthings. Weird, on the scale of bridal idiosyncrasies, but at least she didn't make us dance down the aisle to Bruno Mars. Which Alice was all for, by the way. She's crazy.

I follow Alice down the aisle to a perfectly mainstream Canon in D, smiling at my brother, who looks so handsome in his tux. A boutonniere of one white rose and a single violet is pinned to his lapel, the splash of purple against creamy white beautifully set off by the stark black of his jacket. He tosses a happy grin my way, but I can tell his eyes are focused on the back of the church, waiting for Rosalie to appear. I lock eyes with Edward and stumble when my toe snags on the carpet runner that leads to the altar. Emmett is so fixated on waiting for his bride that he doesn't even bother to steady me. Edward and Jasper both move to catch me, but Edward gets there first, a gentle hand on my arm.

"You okay?" There's a knowing smile on his face. "You look beautiful," he adds, whispering.

I nod, trying not to fall under his spell in front of all these people. "Thanks."

He gestures toward the bride's side of the altar and lets his hand slide from my arm. Each fingertip leaves a burning trail on my bare skin, and I shiver. I take my place next to Alice, smoothing the fabric of my violet-colored sheath dress back into place. The gentle music of the Canon fades, and chords burst into the regal notes of Trumpet Voluntary. Of course, only the music from Princess Diana's processional would be good enough for Rose.

The bride in question appears at the base of the aisle, beautiful in a simple, fitted strapless gown. Emmett's face lights up as if Rose is his sun, and he's forever caught in her gravity. I smile at their obvious love, and let my eyes drift over to Edward. He's watching me with a single-minded stare, not even paying attention to the bride's entrance. Blushing, I tilt my head in her direction, and he focuses on Rosalie with a small smirk. It's a good thing Emmett can't see past his tunnel vision, or he'd notice Edward's blatant stares.

Rose reaches the altar and hands me her flowers with an excited smile. Before I have the chance to return it, she whirls back to her groom, and they disappear into their own little world. Edward is still watching me, that heated stare giving me goose bumps. I look away, scanning the church, finding my father watching Emmett with a critical eye. I briefly wonder why he looks so intense … but then I realize he's actually watching Edward. His eyes bounce between the two of us, assessing what's happening in front of him. I studiously avoid Edward's gaze after that, hoping Charlie will assume Edward is intently watching Rose and Emmett.

The ceremony is over quickly, and soon Edward offers his arm as we follow the newlyweds down the aisle.

"Beautiful wedding," he says, dipping his head so he can speak softly. "Beautiful view."

I catch him staring down the front of my dress. My cheeks heat in a blush that probably goes down as far as his gaze. "Stop it. My dad was watching you—while you were staring at me."

Edward straightens, trying to look a little less familiar. "No he wasn't," he denies.

"How would you know? You were staring at me the whole time."

"Can you blame me? I want to rip that dress off you."

"Don't make promises you won't keep." I frown at him. He's had quite a few chances to have me by now, but he's holding back. I'm done waiting.

He dips down and speaks into my ear, lips brushing my earlobe ever so slightly. "Who says I won't keep it?"

I suddenly feel like a cat who ate every single existing canary.

Let's get this party started—and then get it over with.

.

—x—

.

After dinner is served, Edward stands to a chorus of exaggerated 'oohs and aaahs,' with an almost evil grin on his face.

"Good Evening, ladies and gentlemen. Before I wrote this … _speech_ ," he uses actual air quotes, making me shake my head, "I asked Emmett if there was anything I shouldn't say. He assured me Rose knows everything there is to know, so he gave me free rein. I think he must've forgotten how long we've known each other. So, Rose, this whole speech is really Emmett's fault." Everyone laughs politely, and Edward starts to look a little nervous, like a stand-up comedian afraid of bombing a set. This is one of the times I can stare at him freely, so when he catches my eyes, I give an encouraging nod.

"They say this speech is the worst five minutes of the groom's life. And Rosalie … well, the worst five minutes of yours will come in a few hours."

The crowd loves it, including Emmett and Rosalie. I think it's pretty damn funny, too, except I don't want to think about what my brother is doing on his wedding night. Now, what Edward and I will do, that's a different story.

Pleased with himself, Edward continues. "Worst ten minutes aside, I'd like to point out how beautiful Rose looks today. She is every bit the beautiful bride. Emmett definitely married up." This gets more laughs. "As for Emmett … Mom always said if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." My brother shakes his fist in Edward's direction. "What else can I say about Emmett? Well, he's stubborn. You might think that's detrimental, but it got him Rose in the first place. He asked her on at least fifty dates before she agreed."

"Oh, come on!" Emmett heckles. "It was only twenty-five!"

Rose covers her mouth as she laughs.

"You didn't think I remembered that, did you?" Edward asks with a smirk, in his element now. "So, we all know Emmett tries hard. That's what he does. And his personality, well, I guess that's okay, too. Makes up for his looks."

The whole ballroom is laughing by now, and I'm beyond proud of Edward. I'm a shitty public speaker, which is why Rose let me out of making a speech. No one wants to see that train wreck. Alice, however, is a motormouth and will talk anywhere, anytime. Problem solved!

"Now that I've finished the roast, I should introduce myself. I'm Edward, and I've known Emmett since preschool. We've been friends ever since I shoved sand down his overalls and he whacked me with a Tonka truck in retaliation."

"You better tone this down or I'll give you another black eye," Emmett jokes, grinning.

Edward chuckles and holds up his hands in a gesture of peace before continuing. "Like I said, I'm Emmett's oldest, most handsome, smartest, suavest … okay, okay, I'm his friend."

I giggle, because all of those are true. I've always thought so.

"Imagine preschool Emmett, and you'll get pretty much what you see now. That know-it-all smile, curly hair … those meaty fists. He's usually smiling, and always looks pleased with himself. He should be—he dominated every sport offered at our school, was senior class president, attended U-Dub on a football scholarship and graduated with a GPA of … well … he graduated. But he finished top of his class at the academy and made detective faster than most rookies make it off beat-cop duty."

"Emmett is the kind of guy who looks out for you. Makes sure you're doing okay, even if he's teasing you while doing it. He's a friend who'll come get you at three in the morning, no questions asked. Not that I've ever had to ask."

Somehow, I doubt that. It's still funny, though.

"He's the kind of friend you keep for a lifetime. The kind of friend who pushes you to be a better person. I could keep going, but the message is that Emmett is an amazing friend."

"Of all his accomplishments, marrying Rose is the greatest. He's committing all those qualities to his wife and best friend, along with every bit of that love and devotion I know he has in that giant heart of his."

"So please, join me in a toast to the happy couple! Emmett, Rose, congratulations!"

The applause is almost thunderous, and I can see the absolute relief on Edward's face. He grins at Emmett and Rosalie, but catches my eye over the rim of his champagne flute. I'm transported to a time when we might be sitting at a table like this, with me in a white gown and Edward by my side. It's over all too quickly, as Alice begins her toast, which is just as witty as Edward's but much more coherent than mine would have been.

Rose and Emmett take the floor for their first dance, and they sway and swirl to U2's "All I Want Is You." I had to talk her out of picking "One," because no one should have their first dance to a break up song. We all laugh when Emmett dips Rose and then pretends to drop her. Personally, I find the murderous look she gives him in response much more entertaining.

"They're so cute," Alice sighs, gazing longingly at the dance floor. "I wish Jasper and I could dance."

I give her a questioning look. "Why can't you? Wedding party is up soon, right?" My face heats when I picture dancing with Edward. How the hell am I going to keep my hands under control? They're gonna be all over the place. His biceps, his ass, his abs, his… Yeah. I'm not gonna survive this.

"Jasper hates to dance. He danced with me at our wedding. One. Time." She shoots a death glare in his direction, but he responds with a grin and a shrug, and continues talking with Edward. "According to him, he paid his dues at the wedding. Jerk didn't even dance with me at the club in Vegas. All he had to do was stand there and let me grind on him, but—"

"Okay, that's a little more than I wanted to hear, Alice."

"Speaking of the club, what was up with that headache, Bella? You showed up for like fifteen minutes and then disappeared for the rest of the night." Her eyes light up. "I know you found a hottie and got laid."

It's so hard to keep the panic off my face, especially with Edward eavesdropping. He looks half alarmed and half smug. Weird, but it works on him. Everything works on that man.

"As much as you wish I was that interesting, Alice, I had a headache and went back to the room." With Edward. Where we proceeded to do "everything but."

Not the actual butt. Never the butt.

Alice pouts. "We did do a lot of day-drinking. I should have made you drink more water." She nods, confirming her own statement.

Glad she's mostly moved on to another topic, I laugh. "You're not my mom, Alice. But thanks for the concern."

"It's just that you're younger than the rest of us. We should look out for you."

Edward looks down at his feet, jaw clenching, and I can tell he's still eavesdropping—and he's giving himself a guilt trip.

I bristle at both of them, but try not to let it show. "I'm just fine on my own. I don't need anyone to look out for me."

Alice looks me up and down in appraisal. "You don't look so young in that dress. You're rocking it, little one."

"I'm taller than you, 'little one'!" I laugh, "But thanks for the compliment."

She keeps eyeing me, looking for something I can't see. Her eyes drift over in Jasper's direction and narrow in suspicion.

"Edward has been watching you all night. More than usual."

"He usually looks at me?" My voice wavers, my cheeks heat, and she jumps at my insecurity like a shark on a seal. Her eyes widen like she's had a lightbulb moment.

"He disappeared around the same time you did."

"When?" If I keep playing dumb, she won't figure it out. She won't.

"In Vegas. You were both gone, all night. You were together, weren't you?" She grabs my arm and drags me a couple feet away so the men can't hear us. "I know you were!"

"Alice, I told you, I had a headache. I went back to our room to sleep. I was alone when you and Rose came back to the suite, remember?"

She shakes her head, grinning. "Edward could have come and gone by then." Cackling, she says, "Get it? Come?"

A wry smile breaks through what I hoped was a frown. "Now who's the kid, Alice?"

"You're not denying it," she sings, grabbing my arms and hopping up and down a little.

"I denied it twice." I still have that damn smile on my face, and it's not helping my credibility.

"Okay, okay … but I'm on to you two."

I roll my eyes. "Alice…"

"You guys are cute. You fit somehow. He's not so distant anymore. He's … happy."

There's a knot in my throat the size of an apple, so even if I wanted to speak, I couldn't anyway. Alice's words make me want to go over there and give Edward a hug, then plant one on him that leaves no doubt as to whether we're together or not.

Before I can ruminate any more, the Father/Daughter and Mother/Son dances end, and the DJ announces it's time for the wedding party to join the bride and groom on the floor. Alice and I walk back over to Jasper and Edward, where Alice holds out a hopeful hand to her husband. To her surprise, he takes it and leads her to the dance floor. Her grin is blinding as she practically bounces along behind him.

Edward comes closer, holding out his arm for me to take. "May I have this dance?"

Sometimes he can be so old-fashioned. Tonight, it's endearing, but when he's not letting me have my way with him, not so much. I take his arm and he leads us to the floor. A decidedly more uptempo song explodes from the speakers, and all of us grin. I usually find it hard to dance to a song this fast without looking like Elaine from Seinfeld, but with Edward, it's effortless.

 _Oh don't you dare look back_

 _Just keep your eyes on me_

 _I said, "You're holding back."_

 _She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"_

The lyrics remind me of our beginning. The push and pull. Edward's reluctance, my insistence. I smile to myself as I think about how it all worked out. I've got it all, right here in my arms.

After the chorus, the DJ invites all the guests to join us on the dance floor, giving us a bit more privacy, ironically.

Edward leaves his arms around me, and it feels so good I don't even worry what we look like to everyone else. I doubt anyone is paying attention, anyway. I drink in his presence, the closeness, the heat between our bodies. He smells amazing, like crisp aftershave and warm skin. I want to strip off his tux, piece by piece, until he's naked before me. Then I want to get my hands on every inch of his body before I let him do the same to me.

"Bella," Edward murmurs with a soft laugh.

I blink out of the trance and look up to find a pained smile on his face.

"Your hand is wandering."

Taking physical inventory, I realize my hand is low on his side, inching toward his ass. In fact, my fingers are there already. I quickly pull my wayward appendage upward, but it seems to have a mind of its own, and wanders up his chest.

A soft moan escapes his lips. "You're going to kill me."

I dig my fingers in, then force myself to move my hand to a more appropriate location. "I can't help it. I like dancing with you."

"You like feeling me up."

"I cannot tell a lie," I admit, trying my best to look innocent.

"Okay, George Washington." He peers down at me, mockingly serious.

"You know that's a myth, right? He never really chopped down a cherry tree."

"Thank you for the history lesson," he laughs.

When the song ends, it's hard to let him go. "I wish we could dance all night."

With a smirk, he offers, "We could do the Electric Slide."

I snort, glad there's some bubble gum pop song to cover it up. "No way."

"No Macarena?" He pulls away and attempts a few movements.

I grab his arms, trying to contain my laughter. "Oh my god. Stop it!"

His face scrunches up the way it does when he's thinking. Finally, he gives up. "I'd love to torture you more, but I can't think of any other clichéd wedding line dances."

I blow out a breath. "Good. I thought you were gonna bust out some Achy Breaky Heart."

His face lights up. "Oh, I've got it! How about the Boot Scootin' Boogie?"

I fell right into his trap, dammit.

"You're the worst, Edward."

The sexiest grin plays on his lips. "Oh, Bella. You know that's not true."

"Not yet," I toss back, raising an eyebrow.

"You will," he all but growls, then looks around the crowd before whirling me toward the bar, leaving me with a parting slap on the ass.

I should hope no one saw that … but I can't bring myself to care. I'm so dazzled, I can't tell up or down, wrong or right. I take that back—I know what feels right, and that's Edward.

.

.

.

* * *

 _Funny story - I forgot my bra at my wedding, and by the time I realized it, we didn't have time to go back to my house to get it before the ceremony was supposed to start. Good thing I had a two-piece dress with a boned, corset-like top. No one could tell. But I freaked the fuck out._

 _I did google best man speeches. It's a thing. Who knew? I based this speech roughly on the one my brother-in-law gave at our wedding. He probably googled best man speeches, too._

 _The song mentioned is "Shut Up And Dance" by Walk The Moon._


	12. Chapter 12

_More wedding fun and shenanigans._

 _Many thanks to SarcasticBimbo for polishing up these chapters._

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWELVE—BELLA**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

As the night goes on, tux jackets and bow ties come off, shirtsleeves are rolled up. The whole room is a smorgasbord of eye candy, and my favorite flavor comes in green eyes and auburn hair.

The bride and groom cut the cake, and while Emmett's face gets completely smeared in frosting, the death glare Rosalie gives my brother ensures not a particle of sugar goes anywhere but her mouth. When it's time for the garter toss, Emmett sticks his head underneath Rose's skirt, scandalizing Granny Swan and all her generational counterparts. When he comes out with it between his teeth, I'm afraid we might have to use a few Life Alert necklaces. I'm a little squicked out myself, picturing my brother … doing that. What has been seen cannot be unseen.

After the entertainment is finished, Emmett and Rose make their way around the ballroom, welcoming and thanking all the guests. When they make their way over to me, Emmett throws an arm around my shoulders, tucking me against his side.

"Bells," he says, a little too loudly. He's been hitting the bar, obviously. "How's my baby sis?"

I roll my eyes at the comment, but have to smile at the grin on his face. He's over the moon, and I'm just as happy for him. "Great," I tell him, "there are so many fraternity boys to choose from," I tease.

Rose shakes her head, knowing I wouldn't touch any of them with a ten-foot pole. "Calm down, Emmett," she says when she sees him glowering at me.

"Those guys are way too old for you," he all but growls. "None of them know how to respect a woman, either."

"Relax. I'm joking." I nudge my brother with an elbow, and he drops his arm from around my shoulders.

"Okay, okay! Ouch." He rubs his side, totally exaggerating. "My self-defense lessons have taught you well," he observes with a self-satisfied grin.

I snort. "Your 'self-defense lessons' consisted of 'just kick him in the balls, Bella'."

"I won't even tell you about the ones he gave me," Rose says, waggling her perfectly manicured brows at me.

Ugh. "I have no desire to know anything about your sex life." I only hope Emmett will have the same attitude about mine, and I can't help but wonder what he'll do when he finds out about Edward and me.

Emmett smirks. "She's not far off the mark, Rosie."

"Gross, guys."

"Okay, okay, I get it. In all seriousness, Bells, I'm—we're—glad you could be here for us. You being a part of our wedding is very important to us. I love ya, sis."

To my embarrassment, I feel tears prick at my eyes. This is about as emotional as Emmett gets, and it's moving. I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze. "I love you, too, Em." We release each other, and I move to hug Rose. "You, too, Rose. I'm glad we're finally sisters."

"Me too, Bella. Love you."

"Now, let's all hug it out," Emmett commands, crooking his fingers at both of us.

Rose and I glance at one another, and then we exchange a mutual eye roll.

"Aren't you glad you signed up for a lifetime of this?" I ask as Emmett pulls us in for a group hug.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

.

X

.

The party really gets going after all the formal stuff is done. I'd love to see Emmett's face when he gets the bill for the open bar. I see Edward a few times, always across the room, and he's always watching me. He hasn't danced with anyone, save his mother. The mere thought of him dancing with another girl has my stomach in jealous knots, so I try not to think about it. A few minutes later, a good distraction comes in the form of my mother.

"Want to dance, my dear?" she asks dramatically, bowing as if she were a man in the eighteenth century. She's obviously been into the champagne.

"Of course, Madam." I give her my hand and she kisses it, making us both laugh.

We chitchat about the wedding, how she's so proud of Emmett, how much she loves Rosalie. I know all of this, of course, but Mom is one of those people that tells the same stories over and over when she's drunk.

"You look beautiful, honey. So grown up." She didn't tear up while talking about her newly married son, but now, she sniffles. I don't get it.

"Thanks, Mom."

"I love you, Baby."

Humoring the drunk lady, I pull her close for a hug. "I love you, too, Mom."

I see Edward not too far away, and he's watching us with a smile on his face. I return the grin over Mom's shoulder. She and I awkwardly make our way around the dance floor, content to be quiet as we watch the excitement going on around us.

Then, she casually asks, "What's with you and Edward?"

My eyes go wide before I manage to get them under control. Maybe she isn't as drunk as I thought.

My first instinct is to deny everything. "What are you talking about?"

She gives me that condescending look all moms have in their repertoire. "He's been watching you all night."

"He's probably making sure none of Emmett's frat brothers hit on me." It's a pretty good excuse, in my opinion.

It might even be valid, aside from the "I want you" vibe I've seen all night long, and am guilty of returning. Apparently, he's not so great at concealing it, because if Mom noticed, everyone else will, too. Renee's the best mom I could've ever asked for, but she's never been the most observant person.

"You're looking at him like he's something to eat," she says with a smirk. Then she winks. "Have you?"

"Have I what?" I start to panic. She knows, she _knows!_

" _Eaten_ that?"

This is not happening. Did my mom ask me if I've given Edward a blow job?

"Mom, I don't even … I can't … Uh…" My tongue won't work. It's paralyzed by humiliation.

"I always knew he'd grow up to be a handsome man," she sighs.

She's right on that. As cute as my preteen self thought he was, the man surpasses all my wildest dreams.

"Have you two done it yet?"

Mortification makes my face go hot. "What the hell, Mom?"

"Is that not what they call it these days? Let me think. In our day, it was bumping uglies, making the beast with two backs, taking the bus to Tuna Town—"

"For God's sake, Mom!" People dancing on either side cast us curious stares. "And, no. We haven't." I wish a sinkhole would open up underneath me.

"You have a lot of willpower, Bella. You got that from your father. Speaking of Charlie, does he know?" Her expression goes from teasing to concerned. "What about Emmett?"

I shake my head. "Neither one." When she opens her mouth to offer an opinion, I cut her off. "We want a little more time to be together without inviting everyone else into our relationship."

She purses her lips, but her eyes are supportive. "Honey, you know I'll keep your secret. But please, be careful. Emmett's always been so protective of you. From the moment we told him he'd be getting a sibling, he was ecstatic. When you were born and he found out he had a baby sister, he fell in love. It was so cute. His eight-year-old self was ready to take on the world for you. Edward has been his best friend since they were in preschool, and he's the person Emmett trusts most, aside from us. He might not be very happy with Edward if you two continue to keep this from him."

I nod, blinking back tears. "We're taking a big risk, but I know it will work out. It has to. Edward is in my life, and that won't change. He's worth it, Mom. Emmett will have to come around."

"He will, Bella. But you two are going to have to trust _him_. Tell him, sooner rather than later. You don't want him finding out on his own." She pulls me into her arms and gives me another one of her awesome hugs, right in the middle of the dance floor.

"I promise. And, Mom?"

She releases me and we walk to the edge of the floor. "No, I won't tell your father. Yet." She gives me a pointed look.

"We'll tell him. And Emmett," I assure her, though neither conversation is one I'm eager to have.

"You might have an easier time of it with Charlie," she says with a conspiratorial grin. "He's always had a soft spot for Edward. In spite of his gun collection." She adds that last part with an evil laugh and heads straight for Dad, with a sway in her hips that makes me want to gouge my eyes out as I catch my dad waggling his eyebrows as she nears.

"Care for a dance?"

The voice behind me is deep and smooth, but not the one I want to hear. I turn and find Paul, one of Emmett's frat buddies, also the one he told me to stay away from at all costs. His black hair shines under the soft glow of fairy lights, casting his face in intriguing shadows. He's very handsome, but the air about him indicates he knows it. Mistakenly, he takes my lack of response as consent, and drags me back onto the dance floor.

He's not a very good dancer, and he holds me way too close. I grit my teeth and pray the song is a short one.

"Who knew Emmett's little sis would grow up to be such a hottie?" He grins, slick and sleazy.

"Who knew?" I repeat, full of sarcasm.

He either doesn't notice or doesn't care. "You and me, we should hang out after this party is over." He looks around. "It's kind of lame. Don't tell Emmett," he whispers, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He's totally leering at my tits, and it's pissing me off, aside from his asinine comment about the wedding.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't tell my brother that his wedding reception—that I helped plan—is 'lame'." I try to extract myself from his clueless hold, but he doesn't budge.

"Oh, my bad, Bella. This party is totally awesome."

My bad? Does anyone say that anymore? This guy is something else.

"What are you? A bad imitation of Van Wilder?" It's a complete insult to Ryan Reynolds, but Paul has got to be the embodiment of the token douche bag in every college movie ever.

"Huh?"

I get ready to really lay into him when a hand lands on Paul's arm.

"May I cut in?"

I practically sag in relief. Edward looks murderous, and it's entertaining to see Paul go wide-eyed and pale. He releases me immediately, and I step into Edward's side, letting him claim me.

"Hey, Cullen. What's up? I was just dancing with Bella, here," he babbles, backing away. "Tell Emmett I said 'hey.' I gotta jet."

I crack up. "He really is a college movie stereotype! 'I gotta jet'!" I imitate his voice, then double over laughing.

Edward waits for me to catch my breath, and I straighten to find him watching me with amusement written all over his handsome face. "I take it you're okay."

I nod, wishing I could kiss that beautiful smile, right here in front of everyone. "He's harmless. And clueless."

His brows crease as he pulls me into his arms. "I didn't like the way he was touching you."

I snort. "Me neither. Thanks for the save."

A new song begins, a melody that starts bare-bones but builds into a low-key, layered dance beat. The lyrics hit home, and I close my eyes and lose myself in the way my body fits with Edward's.

I've never been a dancer, but with him, it's effortless. We've both had a couple drinks and our inhibitions are lowered. His hands rest low on my back, then migrate to my sides, and back again. It's dangerous, dancing this close. Those hands are too low to be friendly, but every slight touch, every flex of his fingers sends a thrill up my spine. I open my eyes and find him watching me, eyes dark green and wanting.

"I wish I could kiss you," he murmurs, staring at my lips.

"You could," I reply, feeling as if I need that kiss more than I need to breathe.

He squeezes his eyes shut and appears like he's in pain. "No, I can't." His voice is final.

It tears me up inside, but he's right. We can't cause a scene at Emmett's wedding. It wouldn't do to upstage the bride, and the kind of chaos we'd cause would definitely do it.

Trying to lighten the mood, I poke him in the side. "Well, you can kiss me later."

He smiles down at me. "I'll hold you to that promise."

"I'll hold a lot more than that to you."

He laughs. "Your jokes are awful."

"Yet you keep coming back."

His expression goes serious. "Always."

We've stopped dancing, but remain in the middle of the floor. I'm not sure what "always" means for him. I know what I want it to mean, but if I take it to heart and he doesn't feel the same way, I'll be crushed.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop." He glances around, then puts a hand up to my cheek. "I mean it. I'll always be there. I'll always come back."

He searches my face, and I'm not sure what he sees. I'm not exactly sure what I'm feeling—a mixture of uncertainty and need, with a little fear mixed in. I'm in so deep with this man, I'll never claw my way out.

Edward grabs my hand, practically dragging me to the ballroom entrance. In the hallway, the lights are bright and searing until our eyes adjust. His eyes are brighter, set off by a slight flush high on his cheeks. How is it possible that every time I see him, he gets more handsome?

There's no one from the wedding out here at the moment, but that could change. Neither one of us care; our need for one another is too great. He pulls me around a corner, one that leads to a different, deserted ballroom. As soon as we're out of sight, I'm in his arms and his lips are on mine. He tastes like whiskey, sending my head whirling—as if he's not intoxicating all on his own. His tongue brushes mine, then again with a soft moan into my mouth. I fist my hands in his hair, tugging him closer. Our bodies connect at every point, glued together. I run my teeth over his lower lip, shivering as one of his hands slides up my back to cup the nape of my neck. Disappointment washes through me when he pulls back, dropping his forehead to mine.

"We have to stop," he murmurs. "Someone might notice we're gone."

He licks his lips, and the sight drives me crazy, because he always does that. It's like he can't get enough of the way I taste. I feel the exact same way. Releasing his hair, I let my hands slide down to rest at his sides, enjoying the solid, lean lines of his body. He grabs one of my hands and interlocks our fingers before bringing them up to his lips. I practically melt into a puddle on the carpet.

"Can't we just go?" Brain and body buzzing, I've only got one thing on my mind.

He grins and drops a short, soft kiss on my tingling lips. "I wish. But we've got to wait until Rose and Emmett leave, at the very least."

"I think I have a headache." I put on my best innocent face.

He frowns, as if he's concerned. "You do?"

"See, even you believe it, and you were sucking my face off a couple minutes ago." I smirk at his irritated expression.

"Okay, so that gets you out of here, but I've got no excuse." He thinks for a minute. "Okay, how about this: 'Oh, hey, Emmett. Bella has a terrible headache that only my naked body can cure.' You think he'd go for that?"

Laughing, I pinch his side. "I get it. We're stuck."

"Until later," he says, and it's a promise, one full of heat.

I can see it in his eyes; he's just waiting for me to give him the go ahead. The timing isn't the best, but neither of us want to wait any longer. The reality of what will happen tonight sparks a swell of warmth in my belly.

"Later," I agree, going up on tiptoe to kiss him one last time.

A few seconds turns into minutes, before he reluctantly pulls away with a sheepish grin. "Get out of here before I drag you to the elevator." He's winded, and I can feel him, hard and thick through his pants. "I need a little time to … decompress."

I giggle and back away with a little wave. "See you later."

No one notices when I slip back in to the reception. My heart is still racing from Edward's kisses, my body is on fire, and I feel like I'm glowing, but none of it's visible to anyone else. I easily disappear into the crowd of dancers, but make my way to the bar on the other side. A few minutes later, I'm double-fisting the open bar's finest champagne. Knowing Emmett's taste in champagne, it's probably Andre, but it's free. I chug the first flute and set it on a random table, and that's where Charlie finds me.

He glances at my drink and raises his eyebrows. "Got some sorrows to drown, Bells?"

I put on my best happy face and shake my head. "It's more of a celebration. I'm so glad the reception is here. Rose wasn't a Bridezilla, but Alice is a whole different story. Good thing she's already married, or I'd go into hiding when her time came."

"Well, I'm pretty happy to be the Groom's dad. Means I get off scot free." With a grin, he twirls one end of his mustache, then leans a hip against the table, settling in for a talk.

I roll my eyes, since I've been subjected to that move my entire life. I've never seen him without a mustache. I'm not sure I'd even recognize him without it.

"Glad the rest of us could do all the work for you, Dad." I take another hefty swig, enjoying the bubbles on my tongue. It's cold and fizzy, and the second glass tastes better than the first.

He smirks beneath that mustache. "I'd ask you to dance, but I promised my only one to your mother."

"It's fine. Dancing isn't my thing either." Unless it's with Edward. It's not so awkward then.

He nods. "Got that from your old man." He pauses, giving me the appraising eye that always made me nervous when I was younger. It's the one he gives me when he thinks I'm hiding something.

"Saw you dancing with Edward earlier." Then he waits.

Silence is Charlie's thing, and it's uncannily successful in making me spill my guts. Which is why I've trained myself to avoid this situation at all costs. This whole thing has been an interrogation, and I didn't see it coming. Edward scrambled my brain out in the hallway earlier.

I run all the scenarios in my head, searching for that magic story which doesn't give me away. Problem is, I can't think of any. Lucky for me, Dad either takes pity on me or decides I need a little more incentive to talk.

"You two looked awfully comfortable."

I finish the champagne in one gulp and look for a place to put the empty flute. Dad takes it from me with a wry smile and sets it on the table behind him. Some bubbles linger at the back of my throat, making me cough.

Once I manage to speak, I offer, "Yeah, he's a good buddy." Oh, for fuck's sake.

"I guess he's just swatting the flies away for your brother." Those eyes of his bore into mine in challenge. There's a chess match going on here, and he's kicking my ass.

But there's no way I'm letting him compare me to something that collects flies.

"I'm not a pile of garbage, Dad," I deadpan, giving him the stink-eye.

He laughs out loud. "No, but my baby girl is sweeter than honey."

I almost throw up in my mouth. "Gross. I don't think that means what you think it means these days."

Puzzled, he asks, "What? What did I say? Flies like honey, don't they?"

His bewilderment is almost enough to make me forget his gross comment.

"Fruit flies, maybe."

Charlie snorts. "That's even better. Let's call all those overgrown punks fruit flies."

"Those are Emmett's friends, Dad."

He shrugs. "Eh, the only one worth remembering is Edward. Always was a loyal kid. Smart, too."

I forget to suppress my smile. "Yeah, he is."

He watches me with those cop eyes again. Finally he nods, standing up straight. Pulling me into a hug, he pats me on the back. "Good talk, kid. Make sure you dance with your mother."

"Already did," I respond as he lets me go.

"And slow down on the champagne."

I sigh. "I suppose I could."

I turn toward the bar again, simply to goad him, but he calls after me, "Say 'hi' to Edward for me."

By the time I whirl around, he's already making a beeline for my mom, but I swear I can hear his laughter over the loud music.

What the hell just happened? Does Charlie know? Does he even care?

I sigh, frustrated. Everyone seems to have a theory, an opinion, or some brilliant piece of advice for me.

In spite of my father's directive, I grab another drink. This reception can't be over soon enough.

.

.

.

* * *

 _I think this one answers/confirms some of your questions and suspicions. But... does Emmett know or not? I'm keeping my lips zipped for now._

 _Edward is back next chapter. Next chapter, you guys... if only ffn let us use emojis. *heart eyes*_


	13. Chapter 13

_Many thanks to SarcasticBimbo, my lovely beta._

 _Let's see what Edward has to say about this wedding, shall we?_

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTEEN—EDWARD

.

.

.

"Nice speech, man." Emmett's voice is dry and he pretends to punch me in the arm.

I shrug. "I Googled best man speeches and went from there."

With a hearty laugh, he says, "You lazy son of a bitch. Couldn't even write your own speech. I'm hurt." He puts a hand over his heart.

"Hey, I just took the bare bones. All the insults were straight from my heart."

"Fucker." He shakes his head. "I guess it could have been worse. Thanks for not telling everyone how I ended up buried in the sand with a cock drawn on my face when we were in Cancun."

I can't contain my laughter. "That's because I drew the cock. It makes me look bad."

"What?" He shoves my shoulder. "You told me it was Paul!"

"You were both too drunk to remember what happened! I had to look out for number one." Plus, Paul is a complete douche. "At least it wasn't in Sharpie. All we could find was a pen from the hotel."

"I definitely owe you another black eye," he grumbles. "Shoulda hit you harder with that damn Tonka truck."

"Like you wouldn't have done the same to me," I counter.

"You've got me there. Don't get too drunk tonight. I can draw better than you. I'm talking veins, wrinkly balls, and pubes."

"Aren't you supposed to be with your bride?"

"Okay, you get a reprieve. But I'm watching you, fucker." He does the De Niro pointing thing and everything.

"I think it's 'Focker,' Emmett."

"Nope, I got it right the first time." He snickers and elbows me in the side. Crossing his arms, he looks out at the party with a satisfied smile.

I'll give him that one. Only because I'm about to ogle the shit out of his sister. Now that Emmett's attention is elsewhere, I search the room until I catch sight of Bella.

She's beautiful in that dark purple dress; it hugs every one of her curves. I remember how soft it felt when we danced with the bridal party, the delicate fabric letting me feel the warmth of her skin beneath. And that fucking song…

 _I felt it in my chest as she looked at me_

 _I knew we were bound to be together_

It doesn't take a frilly, flowery acoustic song to spell out exactly how I feel for Bella. No, it's fun, lighthearted, and in-your-face. Just like my Bella. It took all I had not to kiss her right then and there.

"Good party, huh?"

I snap out of my Bella trance, guilt flooding my system. "Yeah. Looks like everyone's having a great time."

"That's all Rosie and I wanted. A great party to thank everyone for all those wedding gifts." He rubs his hands together with an evil laugh.

"Perfect reason for a reception," I agree in my most patronizing voice. "Who cares about celebrating a marriage?"

"I'm paying for the open bar, dude. You have any idea how much that's gonna cost?"

I shudder. There's a lot of people here, and all seem to have a drink in hand.

"I take it back. I hope you get a shitload of expensive wedding gifts. Just don't get mad at me when you open the toaster I got you."

I actually got them an airline voucher, for when they're finally able to take a longer honeymoon. Emmett is too busy with his cases, and Rose's bakery is just getting off the ground, so they're only taking a few days for themselves. Once things are more settled, they'll be able to go wherever they want.

"A toaster? I already have one of those," he pouts, being overdramatic. I know he doesn't really care, but he's always got to ham it up.

"Not one that toasts a cock into the bread." I'm laughing before I even finish the sentence.

His eyebrows go up into his hairline. "You mean cock, as in male chicken, right?"

I shake my head. "Nope." God, I love fucking with him like this.

Rose comes up behind us, unknowingly coming to Emmett's rescue. "Hey, Edward. Nice speech. It's great to see Emmett on the end of the teasing for once."

I nod, smirking. "I'm happy to help."

"Babe, he got us a toaster with a cock on it," he complains, making her laugh.

"I love biting into some toasted cock," she says, a glint in her eye that says she knows it's a joke.

Emmett shudders. "That's just wrong."

"Jesus, Emmett. I was joking," I chuckle.

"Dude. Not cool. I thought I was gonna have to eat cock toast every morning."

He's so loud that everyone around us hears, all of them giving us very strange looks. Rose and I can't stop laughing, while Emmett looks constipated.

Realizing he's the center attention, he throws up his hands and yells, "Drinks for everyone!" There's a round of applause, even though it's an open bar.

Once everyone else is otherwise occupied, he turns back to me and says, "I need a favor."

"Sure."

"Keep an eye on Bella. I saw some questionable dudes sniffing around."

I snort. "They're probably from your fraternity, Emmett." While I never joined, I knew plenty of them through Emmett. I never felt the need to pay dues to make friends.

"They're my brothers. I couldn't leave them out."

I roll my eyes. Most of them still live in their parents' basement.

"I've got it covered." I hate having to hide my relationship with Bella. But now is definitely _not_ the time to admit I'm going to _actually_ cover his sister.

"I knew I could count on you," he calls as he tows Rose toward the bar.

Guilt is an ugly writhing knot in my gut. He can count on me to protect her from other guys, but not from me.

.

-x-

.

Slipping back into the ballroom is easy. My eyes find Bella immediately and stay there, observing from across the room.

I can't believe I did something so reckless, but tasting her was worth the risk.

The sweetness of her mouth, like champagne and wedding cake, made me ravenous, but our time was limited. I could have kissed her forever in that dark ballroom, consequences be damned. Only the thought of being alone with her, later, was enough to pry me away.

I can still taste her on my lips, feel her soft body pressed up against mine, savor the sweet sting of her hands pulling at my hair. But standing here thinking about her isn't doing me any good, considering the ten minutes it took to will back the erection that's never far away where Bella's concerned.

I make my way to the bar, in need of another drink to sip until I can get the hell out of here. Taking my whiskey on the rocks, I find a good place to watch Bella while I nurse my drink. I smirk to myself as she gets cornered by Charlie, while she's double-fisting champagne. While I love the idea of taking her up to my room while she's a little tipsy, I don't relish the idea of having to carry her back to her own room in a fireman's hold. I hope she slows down on the alcohol.

My mother comes up on my right, her eyes leveling me with that information-extracting stare all mothers have.

"You look deep in thought."

That gaze slides over to Bella and I can't help but follow. I can't even take my eyes off her when my own mother is right in front of me.

"Is that how it is, then?" she asks, patting my arm.

I sigh, unable to deny it any longer. "Yeah, it is." I feel lighter, just saying the words.

"Does she know?"

I snort. "Oh yeah. We're … together."

Mom grins. "I had no idea. Bella is such a lovely girl, Edward."

I return her smile. "I know she is. She's too good for me."

"Edward," she chides, shaking her head. "Honestly, she's perfect for you. You're too serious. She's like her brother—all jokes and fun. She'll lighten you up, and you need that."

The mention of Emmett makes the whiskey sour on my tongue, but I ignore the reminder of my crime. Mom is the only person I feel comfortable enough to talk to about this, and I can't keep it in any longer.

"I love being with her, Mom. And when I'm not, all I do is think about her. I've never felt anything like this."

"Sounds like you're in love."

Her statement is a blow to the body, with the force of a prize fighter. It knocks the breath out of my lungs, makes my heart race, my head spin.

She puts a hand on my shoulder and laughs knowingly. "Let it sink in. Maybe you should sit down for a bit."

I nod, sinking down into a nearby chair at a long-abandoned table.

"I'm going to go dance with your father," Mom says, ruffling her fingers through my hair like I'm five years old. I can't even bring myself to care—I'm too busy acknowledging the truth: I'm ridiculously, stupidly, crazily in love with Bella Swan.

.

-x-

.

One minute Emmett and Rosalie are burning up the dance floor, and then they're gone. Nowhere to be seen. I circle my way around the room in search of Bella, but she's chatting with Alice. I start to back away, but she spots me and waves me over with a shy smile.

"Hi," she whispers, her entire body leaning toward mine.

I feel the pull as well, but we have to wait just a bit longer. "Hey. Who are you two conspiring against?"

"You." This from Alice.

I get a weird, nervous feeling, and it's only amplified by the worried, yet pleading look Bella casts my way.

Alice watches me blatantly, and her eyes dart between Bella and me.

Shit. She knows.

"She figured it out," Bella explains. "We weren't as clever as we thought in Vegas. She noticed we were both gone."

I raise my eyebrows at Alice. "I saw you drink almost half a bottle of Grey Goose. How the hell did you even know where _you_ were?" I laugh.

"I can handle my liquor," she says primly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You can't say anything, Alice," Bella pleads. "Emmett doesn't know yet, and we want to tell him ourselves."

Alice winces. "Shit, Bella." She looks up at me. "Emmett is gonna kill you."

I blow out a breath, because she's right. "Thanks for the sympathy."

"He'll come around, though. He knows you, Edward. He knows who you are, that you'd never hurt her."

"That's what I keep telling him," Bella says with a grin.

I throw an arm around her shoulder and hope it looks platonic to everyone else. "She's too good for me."

"Shut up. I like you just the way you are." She looks up at me with a sweet smile.

I grin down at her, taking in every detail of this moment. The flush on her cheeks, the thick lashes framing her big, beautiful, brown eyes, the strands of hair that have escaped the intricate style pinned for the wedding, the pink, full lips curved in my favorite smile.

"I like you just the way you are, too."

They're not the words I really want to say, but now isn't the time. Not here, in this room, in front of a hundred or more people. I'm not sure when the time will be right, but it's going to have to be soon. I can't keep it in much longer.

She needs to know how much I love her.

I need to know if she feels the same way.

"I'll leave you two to it. I'm going to find Jasper, and then we're out of here." She waggles her eyebrows at us. "Don't do anything we wouldn't do."

Bella snorts. "Our options are wide open, then."

Laughing, Alice backs away. "You got it." She waves her fingers at us. "Have fun!"

I let my arm slide down from Bella's shoulders, dragging my hand down her arm until I can link our fingers. "I think Rose and Emmett are gone. You ready to go?

She swallows, looking nervous. "Y-yes."

"You sure?" I don't want her to feel pressured.

Determination takes over her expression. "Definitely."

I grin wickedly, as a display of everything I intend to do with her— _to_ her, once I get her alone.

Her eyes go wide and she bites her lip at the corner, then returns my smile tenfold. I have to will back the growing situation in my pants. We plan to leave separately, and she'll meet me in my room. I hand her the key in my pocket, and go in search of my jacket and bow tie. I run into no less than ten drunk people, including my father, who all want to talk about the meaning of life.

After a ten minute conversation about the state of hospital administration—which seems like it takes an hour, Dad asks, "Have you seen your mother? She always wants to stay too long at these things. We've got things to do, you know what I mean?" He winks, and a part of me shrivels. You know which part.

"Not in a while. Maybe she's with Renee. You know how they love to talk." I pat him on the shoulder and turn to leave. "See ya, Dad!"

"Wait, Son!"

I sigh. So close. "Yeah?"

"Saw you talking with Bella earlier. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He winks again, except this time he does that Shooter McGavin thing from Happy Gilmore.

Kill me now. My balls actually try to crawl up inside my body. I'm not even concerned that it seems like Dad (and really, everyone but Emmett) might know about me and Bella, because he might not remember anything tomorrow morning, anyway.

I literally run out of the ballroom. Well, it's more of a slow jog, so as not to be noticed, but I finally manage to make it out alive. I speed up as I head to the elevator, push the button impatiently, and curse when I get inside only to find I need a key to get to my floor.

FuckFuckFuck.

I make a detour to the front desk and spend another ten minutes trying to fend off advances from the female desk attendant. Key in hand, I rush back to the elevator and wait. And wait. The numbers above the doors couldn't be moving any slower. One comes down a few floors, then goes up. The other does the same. Of course, I jab at the UP button repeatedly, because we all know it makes the elevator come faster. I say a quick prayer of thanks when a car finally comes down, and about fifty people spill out. It's like an elevator clown car.

I recognize a few from the wedding, and they tease me for leaving the party so early. I have no idea what they were doing upstairs, but I'm not about to ask. I fake a yawn and wave my key at them, which they must consider an acceptable goodbye. Finally, the doors are closed, key is in the reader, and I'm on the way to my floor. To Bella. The ride takes fucking forever. The car stops on two different floors, but no one gets on. Irritated, I pace the small space anxiously, trying not to develop an acute case of claustrophobia.

I practically burst out the doors when I get to my floor, and jog down the hallway. The closer I get to her, the faster my heart beats. I need to see her, to touch her, to finally be alone with her, after what seems like a lifetime.

I throw the door open as soon as I see that green light flash, and the sight of Bella reclined on the chaise lounge brings a slow, relieved smile to my face. She's reading something on her phone, but tosses it aside when she sees me. All night, I've been keyed up—so much so I'm practically vibrating, and she strips it all away with a single, welcoming smile.

"Hi," she greets softly. Her long legs are crossed at the ankle, and she sits up, ready to come to me.

"Don't move." I soften my request by crossing to her and drawing light fingers up the length of her leg.

Sinking to my knees, I drink in the sight of her, from her purple painted toes, to the curves of her hips and higher. Perfect handfuls fill out the fitted fabric of her dress, which I can't wait to peel from her body. Her lips are pink and flushed, like she's been nibbling them while she waited for me. I can't wait to get my mouth on hers, so I don't. I grip the back of her neck and draw her to me, lips meeting in a kiss that threatens to burn me alive. She moans, and I nip along her bottom lip, then slide my tongue against hers.

Taking control, Bella grips my shirt in both hands and pulls me toward her. I plant a hand on the chaise for balance as I take the kiss deeper, until all we know is lips and tongues and rough, heated breath. We're finally alone, with no interruptions. My mind can barely process it all, especially when the rest of me is consumed by her—the softness of her skin, her scent, the heat of her body next to mine.

I pull away, breathing hard, just to stare down at her. Dark eyes blink up at me, pupils dilated, as if she's under the influence. A small smile pulls at my lips, knowing she looks this blissed out because of me. And we haven't even made it to the good part, yet.

"I thought you'd never get up here," she says, running her hands over my chest.

I laugh, trailing a finger from her jaw down to the neckline of her dress. "Every time I tried to slip out of the reception, someone cornered me. Most of them will probably have hangovers from hell tomorrow."

She rolls her eyes, grinning. "Everyone down there got wasted. Even I was tempted, but I want to remember every. Single. Minute. Of this." Her hands wander lower with every word.

Nimble fingers unfasten my belt and pull at the tab of my trousers. Chuckling, I put a hand over hers. "In a hurry?" I question, my other hand doing some exploring of its own.

"God, yes." Her breath still hasn't slowed, and her heart races under my fingertips.

Her breast, soft and full, fits my hand perfectly. Her nipple presses into my palm, and I pull my hand back to see its outline beneath the thin fabric of her dress. Watching her face, I scrape my thumbnail across her nipple, pleased when she arches her back in a plea for more.

Bella wiggles her hand out from my hold and manages to tug my zipper down, but I can't bring myself to stop her this time. I'm fucking hard as a rock and need some relief. I can handle it. I'm not going to fucking jizz in my pants like a dude from The Lonely Island. I'm not.

All thought flies from my mind when her warm, soft hand wraps around me, squeezing just right, stroking up, with that little twist. Just. Like. That.

"Fuck," I breathe, eyes closed, every single molecule focused on her hand and my cock.

I was wrong. I can't handle it. I _am_ gonna jizz in my pants.

I grab her wrist to still the movements. "Bella, you've got to stop," I pant, gently pulling her hand away.

"But I want to," she argues, her lips pink and pouty.

All I can think about is how good they'd look wrapped around my dick. I've got to distract myself or I'm going to blow it all before she even comes once.

"Oh, I want you to," I say on a breathless laugh, "but it's going to be all over if you don't stop that." All over her pretty dress, most likely.

I move to the end of the chaise lounge and grab her hips, yanking her down to me. She yelps in surprise, but it dissolves into laughter. I slip my hands under her dress, pushing it up above her hips.

"Fucking hell," I mutter to myself, eyes wide at the sight of her in a little, lacy, nude-colored thong that matches her skin tone almost perfectly. It's almost as if she's naked. My fingers curl into fists at her hips and my forehead falls to her bare abdomen. When I gather the strength, I look up at her. "What are you trying to do to me?"

She's still laughing. "Sorry … for not wearing granny panties?"

"If I'd known what was under here…" We both know what I would've done. I would've shoved her into the confessional booth back at the church and fucked both our brains out.

I drag a finger right down her center, smirking when I feel the soaked lace. Hips lifting, her laughter fades away as I pull the fabric to the side and take one long, slow lick. Her pussy is bare, lips just as pink as her mouth. I swirl my tongue around her clit, barely touching. Bella reaches down and grabs my hair, practically shoving my face into her pussy.

"Don't tease me," she all but growls.

I choke back my laughter, sensing it wouldn't be met very well. She's like an angry kitten. In any case, I'm happy to appease her demands.

I kiss her clit like I'd kiss her lips, licking and sucking until she's almost there, then dragging my mouth lower, slipping my tongue inside her. Lifting one of her legs over my shoulder, I go deeper. I slide my thumb through her wetness and circle it over her clit, loving her little curses and moans. When I place little sucking kisses along her lips, moving upward, I look up to find her watching me. Hand still clenched in my hair, breathing hard, and staring down at me like I hung the fucking moon. As she looks on, I put two fingers in my mouth, draw them out, and then slowly push them inside her. My tongue comes out to flick at her clit, and her head drops back on a long moan. I match the thrusts of my fingers to the rhythm of my tongue, sucking and flicking, trying to drive her absolutely insane. I curve my fingers and she gets louder, hips meeting my mouth, both hands in my hair now.

"Edward … I…"

Her words are all breath as her body shakes with her approaching climax. I've made her come before, but it's never been like this. I've never been so hard, yet all I want is to make this girl come. Right the fuck now.

I fasten my lips over her clit and suck, flicking the tip of my tongue over her sensitive flesh. Lower, I thrust harder, making sure I hit that spot, and I can feel her tighten around my fingers. I hum against her, and she comes apart with a scream. I think it might have been my name, she clamps her legs around my ears as she comes, so I can't really tell.

I have to pry her legs away so I can breathe. Bella lies flat on the chaise, dress rucked up to her waist, panties askew. Her chest rises and falls with quick breaths, the only sign she's even alive. Her eyes open slowly, grinning up at me as I come up on my knees to check on her.

"You okay?"

A thumbs up is all I get. I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth to cover up my smug grin.

Bella holds her hand out. "Pull me up. I can't move."

I chuckle as I take her hand, drawing her to me, sliding my arms around her waist. I plant light kisses along her neck, up and down, until she grabs my face and pulls me to her lips. The kiss is deep and wet, and I love that she lets me kiss her after I've made her come with my mouth. She wraps her whole body around mine, and there's no doubt she can feel how desperately I want her. I spread my hands over her back and smooth them up to find the zipper of her dress. It slides easily down to the small of her back, and I swear, I get even harder hearing the sound of it. I'm going to be that much closer to finally seeing all of Bella's naked body.

I break the kiss reluctantly, but this is more important. "Arms up," I whisper, dropping one last kiss on her flushed lips as she obeys. I gather her dress and push it up over her head, and toss it somewhere behind me. I stand and pull her with me, holding her out at arm's length to fully appreciate the view. Her bra matches the panties, and I can see the shadows of her nipples through the sheer lace.

"God, you're so beautiful," I murmur, sliding a finger beneath her bra strap and slipping it off her shoulder.

Putting a hand over mine, a wicked smile plays at her lips and she says, "My turn."

Her fingers go to the buttons of my shirt, quickly working them open. I shrug out of the stiff fabric and reach behind my neck to yank my white undershirt off, groaning when she presses her hands to my chest. Her fingers dance patterns over my abs, back up to my pecs, smooth over my shoulders, and map the muscles in my back. She's everywhere at once, driving me out of my mind without even touching the good parts.

Then her mouth joins in.

Light, wet kisses dot my chest; her tongue flicks at my nipples. More kisses, a straight line down as she kneels before me, trails her tongue past my belly button, and nips it with her teeth. Those talented hands spread open my trousers and pull out my dick at the same time as she licks a trail down to meet it. She takes me into her mouth, sparing me from begging. Slowly, she slides down, stroking me with her lips and tongue, hand curled around the base. Faced with the image of her lips wrapped around me, I'm dangerously close to losing it. While I'd love nothing more than to come in her mouth, there's time for that later. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get myself under control.

The lack of sight only intensifies my other senses: her hot mouth; the soft, wet noises; the friction; the way I can still taste her on my lips; the subtle scent of her perfume. I thread a hand into her hair, needing to feel her moving on me. Holding her head still, I let myself thrust into her mouth gently, and she moans in approval.

"Bella, I—oh, fuck, that feels good."

I finally open my eyes to find her looking up at me, and almost lose it. As gently as I can, I pull her off my cock and pray it's not too late, hope that I don't come all over her face.

"Get up here," I rasp, my throat dry and aching from holding back. Releasing her hair, I pull her up and walk her toward the bed, then playfully toss her on the mattress.

"I was having fun," Bella complains, her smile bee-stung and impish.

I bite my lip to keep from moaning at the sight of those lips — knowing they're swollen from sucking my cock is near torture.

"So was I — too much fun." Shucking off the rest of my clothes, I enjoy the way her eyes widen at seeing me completely naked. I feel thoroughly violated, and I've never been happier to be ogled like a piece of meat.

She sighs. "You're so pretty."

I snort. "Wrong adjective, Bella." I climb onto the bed, hook my fingers underneath both sides of her thong, snap the lace, and toss it away.

Gasping, her eyes dart from my dick to the place where her panties landed and back again. "Wow."

I'm not sure if she's referring to my penis or the fact that I just ripped off her underwear.

"The word you're looking for is manly. Virile. Huge. Adonis-like—"

She puts a hand over my mouth, laughing so hard I can't help but notice the swells of her breasts jiggling above her bra. Avoiding her hand, I pull one of the cups down and suck her nipple into my mouth.

"Oh, God," she moans as I wedge my hips between hers.

I'll take that. Much better than "pretty."

I slide my hands underneath her back to unfasten her bra. Once it's loose, I raise up enough to pull it off and toss it out into the room, then I wrap her in my arms again, mouth teasing her breasts. She tugs her arms free and winds her hands in my hair. Long legs wrap around my waist, which lines us up perfectly. I thrust gently, gliding through her wetness as I look up at her.

We've had the talk, about birth control and clean tests, but I want to give her the choice. For me, simply being with her will feel amazing.

"I put condoms in the bedside drawer."

She shakes her head. "I want you. Just you."

Her hands release my hair and cup my cheeks, pulling me down for a kiss. At the same time, she arches her hips and I start to slip inside. I push in until she starts to tense up, and give her some time to adjust. I know it's been a while for her—for both of us—and I don't want to hurt her. I plan on fucking her as many times as I possibly can while we're here, and I don't want her sore.

I keep my thrusts shallow and slow as we kiss, my hands roaming her body, learning every single spot that makes her squirm in delight. My hips move faster, thrust a little deeper, and she moans.

"Edward," she breathes, breaking the kiss.

I nuzzle her nose with mine and trail a few kisses over to her ear. "Can you take more?"

She nods, her hair brushing my face.

I reach down and hook my arm under her knee, making more room. Bracing my knees on the mattress, I push deep, capturing Bella's cry in my mouth. She clutches at my shoulders, lifts her other leg higher, and meets me more than halfway as I increase the pace. I end the kiss with a soft nip on her bottom lip and raise my head to see her face.

Her eyes are closed, lips parted and curved in a slight smile. Those lids raise, revealing blissed-out brown eyes, and I grin as I fuck her. I push myself up to hover over her, and look down to where my cock strokes in and out, slick with her wetness. I change the angle so I rub against her clit with every thrust.

"Oh my God … that's so hot," she all but moans, drawing my eyes to her face.

She's watching us too, which makes it even better. I love that she likes seeing us like this, as close as we can physically get.

"Mmm … we look so good together, don't we?" I ask her, needing to hear more of her voice.

"So good." She drags her fingertips down my chest and abs, curving her hands around my hips, and pulls me closer. "More. You feel so good inside me."

I dip down to lick and suck at her nipples, and her back arches up to me. I go down on one elbow and give her what she wants, fucking her harder. Kissing my way up her chest and neck, I take her mouth. We're both out of breath, but I can't bring myself to stop. Kissing her, having my tongue in her mouth at the same time as my dick, drives me wild.

She finally pulls away, turning her head to the side as she catches her breath. I place small, nibbling kisses along her jaw, and nibble just below her ear. I can feel her pussy tightening around me, and I know she's close. Letting go of her leg, I slip my hand between our bodies and drag my thumb through the wetness that coats both of us, placing it on her clit. I press down, gently circling. She goes wild, squirming and moaning and breathing my name.

"Come for me?" I whisper into her neck. I already know the answer, but I want to hear her say it.

"Yes! Don't stop," she breathes, clutching at my hips, my back, then grabbing at my hair, and I love it.

I fucking love it all. I love her touch, her sounds, her scent, the way she calls my name, and the way she looks at me like I'm her world. I love the way she feels beneath me, the way she moves, the way her whole body begs for mine. I love _her_.

All the thoughts racing through my head lets my orgasm creep up on me. Bella feels so good, she's so wet, so hot, so perfect … I can barely hold back. I move my thumb faster, thrust harder, deeper, and bury my head into her neck. Gritting my teeth, I barely hold on until she tenses underneath me, and about pulls a fistful of hair from my head. The sting helps me hold off, because there's no way I'm finishing before she does. My restraint pays off when her pussy ripples around my cock, and her whole body squeezes me. Her arms and legs wrap around me like a python, and she calls my name so loudly I'm sure the people in the rooms next door know who I am.

I follow her over the edge, giving her everything I have, and then I collapse on top of her. When I have the strength, I roll off to the side, taking her with me so I can stay inside her. I'm not ready to separate just yet.

Bella looks at me with a huge grin on her face. "Holy shit."

I can't agree more. It's never been like this for me. Being with Bella takes sex to a level I never knew existed. It's amazing, what happens when you love someone.

"More like holy _fucking_ shit," I tease her, making us both chuckle. Then I kiss the smile off both our lips.

It serves two purposes: one—I get to kiss her, and that's always a win; two—if I don't kiss her, I'm going to let it slip that I love her.

I may have a Y chromosome, but I'm smart enough to know that right after sex is not an appropriate occasion in which to express my love.

But I will. Soon.

.

.

.

* * *

 _The song mentioned is "Shut Up And Dance" by Walk The Moon. They're great, if you love alt rock._

 _So… there you have it. UST resolved? Check. As for the other elephant in the room, you'll just have to wait and see..._


	14. Chapter 14

_This was one of my favorite chapters to write. I hope you enjoy._

 _SarcasticBimbo is awesome. My punctuation would be weird without her._

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN—BELLA**

.

.

.

"I love waking up with you." I sigh and stretch, enjoying the cloud of warmth surrounding me—the one inside that never drops below a simmer when I'm with Edward, and the physical heat from his lean body wrapped around me.

"I haven't slept that well in … damn, I don't even know how long." Edward nuzzles my neck, his warm breath sending chills running down my back.

I giggle. "You must've slept great, considering how well you sleep usually."

His laugh is a warm puff of breath on my neck. "Just because I fall asleep fast doesn't mean I sleep well. I sleep the best when I'm with you."

I tuck away that tiny little discovery and add it to all the new, intimate things I've learned about him in the last few months. I want to soak up every detail and keep them close to my heart.

"I sleep better with you, too," I admit, settling back into his body, moaning a little at the feel of all that naked skin. It's so clichéd, but we really do fit together like puzzle pieces. And naked puzzle pieces are the absolute best. I don't ever want to wear clothes again. We can stay here, in Edward's hotel room, and hide under the covers when room service brings us our food.

His arm pulls up tight under my breasts and he shifts behind me, his cock sliding against my ass. Well, hello there.

"Someone's awake," I say, trying to sound sultry.

Edward buries a laugh in my hair. "You did not just make that joke."

"Well, now I wish I hadn't." My cheeks are flaming hot.

He pushes a lock of hair out of the way and sets his lips to my jaw. "Don't. It's cute." Small, sweet kisses land behind my ear. "You're cute."

Stubble lightly scrapes the tender skin of my neck as he kisses a path down to my shoulder. I hum in lazy bliss and push back against him, smiling when he moans quietly and thrusts his hips.

"God, I want you," he says, fingers clutching me tighter. "I didn't know I could want anyone this much."

He's just knocked the breath right out of me, but somehow I find the words he needs. "I'm not going anywhere."

He raises his head and I look back at him over my shoulder. They're heavy-lidded and sleepy, but clear. The green of his irises burns right into my heart, and if his name wasn't already written all over it, it's tattooed there now. There's no going back for me.

Eyes locked with mine, he skims a hand down my side, lifts my thigh back over his, and wedges his hips between mine. The length of him rests thick and hot between my legs, but he doesn't move. My heart pounds and I can feel it everywhere—I wonder if he can feel it too. He takes my hand, threads his fingers through mine, and pushes them down my body.

"Put me inside you," he whispers, his cock riding back and forth, coating himself in my wetness. Then he lets go of my hand and cups my pussy, stroking me open, fingers exploring possessively. He knows exactly where to touch, how to make me lose my mind.

My mouth goes dry and my heart pounds, anticipation unfurling throughout my body in a slow, heated wave. Edward looks down at me, eyes dark and wanting, and I don't want to disappoint. I line him up and he slides through my fist, stopping when he can't go any farther. A quiet moan slips from his chest when I squeeze him and then let go, gripping his wrist to ground myself. He goes deep, eyes falling shut as he stills. I let my head drop back to the pillow, savoring the contrast of cool sheets and heated breath on my cheeks, my heartbeat pounding in my ears and chest and especially lower, where he fills me.

He rubs his lips over the shell of my ear, gently bites the lobe. "Feels so good … you feel so good."

Words escape me as he drags slick fingers to my inner thigh and opens me wider, making more room for his hips. One strong arm comes up from beneath me and grasps my shoulder. I gasp as he slides deeper, hits that spot inside, and fucks me like he owns my body.

And he does—he owns my body, my heart, and everything else I have to give. I just don't know how I'll be able to keep it inside much longer.

.

x

.

We finally make it out of bed around nine-thirty. Brunch isn't until eleven, so I have just enough time to shower and get back to my room to dress. I'm not looking forward to navigating the halls in my wrinkled bridesmaid's dress, but last night (and this morning) was totally worth it.

"C'mon, Bella. You know you want me in there with you." Edward pleads through the locked bathroom door.

"We'll never get out of here in time if I let you in." Because I can't resist his naked body. He looks like a freaking underwear model. Okay, maybe he doesn't have an eight pack, but there's definitely a respectable six-pack hiding under his scrubs. It's sure as hell enough to make me drool. All of him makes me drool.

"We should conserve water."

I snort. That had been his argument before I locked him out of the bathroom. "You tried that one already," I call out of the shower, trying to scrub up quickly. I keep getting distracted by pleasantly sore places and a few tiny, purple marks scattered over my breasts and thighs.

"Hey, water conservation is important," he laughs, which makes me giggle at his persistence.

I shake my head and finish up, rinsing the suds down the drain. The luxury hotel towel is soft and fluffy, and so big it might wrap around me twice. After making use of the provided amenities on the counter, I don a towel toga and open the door. Edward sweeps in, gathers me up and sets me on the vanity, and takes my mouth in a kiss that makes me wish I'd allowed him some naked shower time. He tastes of coffee, and for a moment I'm miffed, because he better have saved some for me. The thought is fleeting—not even I can keep thinking about coffee when I'm wrapped up tight in Edward's arms.

After a few moments, or a few days, he pulls away and licks his lips. "There's mouthwash in here?"

I burst out laughing, pushing at his shoulders. He doesn't budge. "Yeah, you should use some."

Pouting, he says, "You're mean."

"I'm kidding. That kiss made me forget who I was. I'd spend all day kissing you if I could." I'm not exaggerating. I really would.

He smirks, tugging me closer. I'm almost falling off the edge of the counter.

"That's more like it." He leans in to kiss me again.

Just to be contrarian, I reach over and hand him the tiny bottle of mouthwash. He bats it out of my hand and captures my mouth roughly, growling at the contact. One hand tugs on the hotel pen I'd used to secure my hair, sending it cascading down my back. He curls his fingers into it and moves my head where he wants it, deepening the kiss until it's hard to breathe—but at this point I'd rather keep kissing him than breathe anyway.

Edward pulls at my towel and it falls to my waist. He cups my breasts in both hands, bending his knees to scrape his stubble over the tops. "Hello there," he rumbles, casting a quick, cheeky smile up at me.

I giggle, but then he rolls my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers; my head drops back, eyes closing. Tender and sensitive from last night and this morning, I can feel every lick, suck, and nibble like he's going to make me come by playing with my tits alone. He drags his mouth back up, planting wet kisses along the way. I struggle to catch my breath and rub my nipples against the hint of hair on his chest, desperate for just a bit more friction.

"I can't get enough of you," he pants against my lips. "Tell me I can have you again."

"Yes," I breathe, nipping at his bottom lip. "You can have me anytime you want." My hands are already at the open tab of his tux pants, drawing the zipper down. I slip my hand in and wrap my fingers around him, thick and hot.

"Fuck," Edward grunts, hips thrusting into my grip.

A loud knock sounds from the main room and we freeze, eyes wide.

"Did you order room service?" I whisper, not sure why I'm whispering. It's not like whoever it is can hear us in here.

Edward shakes his head. "It might be my parents. You stay here while I check it out."

I nod and wrap myself up in the towel while he wrangles his zipper, with no small amount of difficulty. If he doesn't calm that thing down, he's going to have to hide his bottom half behind the door.

Another knock sounds, this time louder. And what comes next has my blood running cold.

"Edward, man, wake up! I'm looking for Bella, and she's not answering her door."

Edward goes white and freezes, staring out into the room like the clown from _IT_ is waiting for him on the other side of that door.

While I don't mind if Emmett knows how I feel about Edward, I know Edward has reservations. Part of him feels our relationship is a betrayal of their friendship, which I don't think is the case. I'm confident Emmett will come around when he realizes what Edward and I feel for each other.

Yet … I have a sinking feeling none of us are going to get what we want today.

Trying to remain calm in the face of Edward's growing panic, I take charge. "I'll stay in here. You go get the door. Of course you have no idea where I am. Maybe I went home to sleep in my own bed. Make up something. Just get him out of here."

"Okay. Okay. " He nods and flies out of the bathroom, while I close the door behind him, leaving just enough space for me to watch.

There's a good line of sight from the bathroom, and I have a clear view of Edward's back as he reaches the door. He opens it enough to conceal what's in the room, but not make it look like he's hiding something. I spot my brother out in the hall, peering past Edward into the room. Nosy jerk. Always was and always will be.

"What's up, Emmett? Sorry, I wasn't up yet."

I grin. Oh, yes he was. Twice.

Also, Edward is a terrible liar. He sounds as if he's reading lines off a cue card. This might not be as easy as I thought.

However, Emmett doesn't seem to notice Edward's bad acting. "Late night?"

"Something like that." Edward attempts a horrible fake yawn and I have to stifle a laugh.

"Should have known. The ladies always love a groomsman." I can literally hear my brother's obnoxious grin.

"You bet," Edward affirms with an emphatic nod. Jeez, he really is terrible at lying.

"So, about Bella," Emmett begins, then sighs heavily. "She's not in her room, and there's no trace of her. Rose and I need a little help setting things up for the brunch, and I thought she'd be around. Let me in, and we can hash out a plan."

"I can't let you in. She's in the shower." Edward's eyes go wide and he backpedals. "Not Bella. Bella's definitely not in my shower. The woman I spent the night with. She's in there," he babbles while I silently plead for him to shut up.

He's going down in flames out there, and I have no way to help him.

But it turns out he doesn't need my help; Emmett does it for him.

He cackles with glee. "That's hilarious. You and Bella? Like that would happen. Remember how she used to write you love notes back when she was in sixth grade?"

Oh, God. Those notes were supposed to be from a 'secret admirer,' dammit. They knew? Bastards. I'd make them pay, but then we'd all have to acknowledge the full spectrum of awkwardness that was pre-teen Bella Swan. It's best if all of us never speak of it again.

"They were sweet." Edward defends me, and I melt a little.

Emmett mocks him in a high-pitched voice. "Aww, how sweet."

"Shut up, asshole," Edward barks, crossing his arms across his chest. One shoulder props the door open, the bright light of the hallway illuminating his silhouette.

Damn, he's pretty. I let myself stare a little, marveling that this male specimen is mine. My gaze rakes him from head to toe … and that's when I notice my bridesmaid dress splayed out on the floor behind him like a freaking snow angel. It might as well be a neon sign saying, "Bella and Edward had wild, rip-each-other's-clothes-off sex!" My blood runs cold.

"Anyway, dude, you have any idea where she is? You've gotta help me out here. Your lady friend will keep for fifteen minutes, won't she?"

"Maybe Bella went home," Edward suggests.

"Why would she do that, man? She has to be here for the brunch in—" he pulls out his phone and checks "—half an hour. Shit. Rosie's gonna kill me if I don't get back soon."

"I don't know … maybe she wanted to sleep in her own bed?"

"C'mon, Edward. It's not like she's got a Tempurpedic at home. I'm pretty sure I gave her the mattress she has now, and it's been through the wringer, if you know what I mean." I can practically hear him waggling his eyebrows.

Also, gross. I need a new mattress, stat. And how could he give that thing to me without full disclosure?

"Have you checked downstairs? Maybe she's already at the restaurant. If she ran into Alice, you know she's already been dragged into indentured servitude. Alice is always spazzing out about last minute centerpieces and signature cocktails or whatever."

"Already checked. And you're right, Alice the Wedding Dictator is down there already," Emmett grumbles.

Edward chuckles. "Are you okay? You just said 'dictator' without making a dick joke."

"That's what she said."

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

"I'm too worried about my sister. We've got to find Bella." Emmett grabs Edward's shoulders and shakes him dramatically.

Edward wobbles under the force of Emmett's Cro-Magnon strength, and they both stumble into the room.

All I can do is watch in horror as Edward's feet get tangled in the landmine that is my dress.

"What. Is. That?" Emmett's voice goes cold.

"A dress?" Guilt veritably drips from each word.

Indecision grips me. I want to come to Edward's rescue, but appearing in nothing but a towel would only provoke the raging bull.

"Tell me that isn't what I think it is." Emmett's voice is deadly calm. It's his cop voice, the one he makes himself use when he's pissed off beyond measure but doesn't want you to know it. Only everyone knows it. His eyes scan the room, landing on my bra on one side of the room, my panties on the other, and one of my shoes on each side. His face gets darker with each find, and there might be steam coming from his ears.

Kicking his bare feet free of the dress, Edward stands taller in the face of Emmett's intimidation. "If you think it's a dress, then yes, it's a dress."

Right now probably isn't the best time for sarcasm, but I love his smart mouth so much.

My brother pushes Edward out of the way and yanks my dress off the floor. "This," he holds it up in his fist, "is a bridesmaid's dress. There are only two bridesmaids: Alice, who is downstairs … and my fucking sister!" He roars the last part, getting in Edward's face.

Edward doesn't back down; he leans in until they're face to face. "Yes, okay! Bella's here. But it's none of your—"

"You son of a bitch!"

I can't leave him out there alone any longer. Clutching the knotted towel to my chest, I open the door just in time to see Emmett throw a wicked punch that Edward does nothing to avoid. Helplessness makes me feel like I'm wearing concrete shoes as my brother shoves Edward hard, gearing up for another hit.

Edward stumbles backward with a growl of pain, but he doesn't fight back. There's a trickle of blood down the side of his face, from a small cut in his eyebrow.

I find my feet and fly out of the bathroom, jumping in between them. "Emmett, stop!" I cry, tears pricking at my eyes.

Edward tries to put me behind him. "I can handle this. I deserve it."

The disbelief on my face is probably worth a meme or two. "He hit you, Edward!" Around Edward's body, I shoot Emmett the dirtiest look of all dirty looks, though a couple tears well over and spill down my cheeks. It's a mad cry, and if my brother is thinking correctly, he'll know what that means—he's about to get murdered. "I'll deal with you later!"

"Stay out of this, Bella," Emmett growls, grabbing for Edward's shoulder, no doubt so he can punch him again.

I dart in front of him, hoping he won't punch me in the throat instead. He's threatened before, but he never follows through. Then again, I've never made him this mad before.

Holding onto my towel for dear life with one hand, I point a shaking finger at Emmett. "Get. Out."

"Bella—"

"Shut up, Emmett. I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions. Right now, I'm about to make the decision to kick you in the junk. Get. OUT!"

He doesn't budge, turning furious eyes to Edward. "How could you do this? She's my baby sister, for fuck's sake!"

"She's not a little girl any more!" Edward roars.

"I am not a baby!" I yell at the same time, resorting to stomping my foot for emphasis. I realize my actions directly contradict my words, but anything more drastic would likely result in losing my towel toga.

Edward wraps an arm around my waist and I lean back against him, grateful for both his tactile and verbal support. Emmett just stares at us, chest heaving and fists clenched. I've never seen his face this red. Finally, he settles on me.

"He's going to hurt you, Bella. You know what he's like. He's never serious, never keeps anyone around."

"I do know what he's like," I respond softly, and Edward squeezes my waist. He's kind, funny, and a little nerdy. And he treats me better than any guy I've known, aside from my father and brother. But Emmett is rapidly falling in the ranks.

"Then you know he fucks around—"

"It's not like that with her, Emmett."

"Don't give me that bullshit. Of course it's like that. It's always like that with you, Edward. If you wanted some young piece of ass to fuck, go find one in a bar, like you usually do."

Rage and pain war inside me at Emmett's accusations. How dare he insinuate that I'm just like some easy fuck from the bar scene?

"Get. Out!" I'm ready to do some punching of my own. Too bad I'd break my fist on Emmett's blockhead face.

"I'm not leaving without you, Bella—"

"Oh, you bet you are, dickhead. You're lucky if I ever speak to you again."

Emmett's face crumples with sadness. "Bells, you don't mean that."

"Try me." I don't even care that he's hurt. His implication that I'm just another notch in Edward's bedpost cuts me to the quick, and I don't even want to see his face.

Emmett points to Edward. "You did this, you fucking bastard. Moving in on my sister, sneaking around like a coward."

Edward cuts in, his voice loud and confident. "I love her, Emmett."

The world drops out from under me.

"You don't know what love is." Emmett holds his hands out, then drops them in defeat.

Ignoring my brother, I whirl around, heart racing. "What did you say?" The words are barely a whisper. I've dreamed of hearing those three words from him, but I wish it wasn't here, right now. I don't want my asshole brother in on this moment.

A smile softens his mouth as he looks down at me. There's a bluish bruise blooming high on his cheekbone and his eye is getting puffy. "I love you, Bella."

To my embarrassment, tears well in my eyes. "Really?"

Nodding, he admits, "I have for a while now. Just didn't know how to say it, or if I even should. Now's not the best time."

"You should say it! You definitely should."

A full grin brightens his face, and it's contagious.

"I've loved you since I was in sixth grade," I admit, laying my whole heart out for him to take.

The sound of the door clicking shut knocks us out of our bubble. Emmett is gone. I'm not sure why, or if he's even gone for good, but I start to relax a bit.

"I know," he says dryly. "The love notes kind of gave it away."

"Ugh, don't remind me." I hide my face in his chest for a few moments.

"Like I told Emmett, the letters were sweet." He cups my face in his hands. "I've always felt protective of you. When you got older, I tried so hard to tell myself it was only protectiveness. I just couldn't step over the line. But then you completely obliterated that line, and I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stay away from you anymore.

I link my arms behind his neck and shake my head. "And now we're here. We're together. I'd say things turned out okay. Aside from the Emmett situation."

With a heavy sigh, he wraps his arms around my waist, hugging me hard enough to lift me up on tiptoe. I wrap my legs around him and squeeze him tight.

"I've made such a mess of things. I should have told Emmett I had feelings for you a long time ago." Smirking, he says, "Might've saved me a punch." He walks us over to the bed, where he deposits me on the mattress and drops down next to me.

"That's true. But you look so manly with that shiner. It's kinda hot."

"I'm glad you find my pain attractive." He pouts, milking it.

"Aww, poor baby." I reach up and tenderly probe at the puffy skin around his eye, and he hisses in pain. "I really am sorry about Emmett. I'm going to sic Rose on him as soon as I get the chance." I pull him down so I can drop a few light kisses on the swollen crest of his cheek. "I'll get dressed and go get some ice for your face."

"Let me get it while you get dressed, and then I'll let you fuss over me. If Emmett went to Charlie over this, my chances of survival improve significantly if we're both clothed when he comes pounding on the door."

"If Dad knows what's good for him, he'll leave us alone, which I think he will. In any case, I'd protect you." I nod emphatically. After last night's conversation, I get the idea that Dad might not be averse to the idea of Edward and me together, anyway.

"You, who hid in the bathroom while I got punched?" he counters.

"I ran out of the bathroom as you were getting punched. And I'm sorry."

We both knew spending the night together here wasn't the smartest idea. But when have naughty parts ever been smart?

"Bella, I'm kidding." Threading his fingers through mine, he brings them to his lips. "I'd take more than a punch for you. Don't worry about Emmett or Charlie. We'll figure it out."

I sigh, wracking my brain for a solution. The only thing I can come up with is how thankful I am that we're here in the Fairmont.

Here, Emmett can't get to his gun cabinet.

Dad always said Edward looked at me like he'd jump in front of a bullet for me. I don't wanna test that theory.

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* * *

 _So, there you have it. It's out in the open - they love each other, aww!_

 _And Emmett was clueless. Give the guy a break; he's had a lot going on, with the wedding and his busy workload. I know he's a cop, and should be more observant, but he trusts both Edward and Bella so much that he never suspected anything could change between the two of them._


	15. Chapter 15

_Have I mentioned that I don't own anything Twilight-related? No copyright infringement is intended._

 _SarcasticBimbo makes these chapters look so much prettier._

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIFTEEN—EDWARD**

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Well, that went down in the worst possible way. Bella wants to kill Emmett, Emmett wants to kill me, and Charlie may or may not help him hide my body. This is exactly what I hoped wouldn't happen. But I took the risk, knowing I could potentially ruin the most lasting friendship I have, and now I have to pay the price. My friendship with Emmett may never recover.

I'd do it all over again for her.

One thing I won't do is stand in the way of Bella's relationship with her brother. I grew up watching my friend dote on his sister, and I know how much she loves him, no matter how mad she is. I just hope I can find a way to fix this.

In spite of all the bad decisions, I feel a million pounds lighter now that our relationship can be out in the open, and part of me is ridiculously happy. The other part is ridiculously pissed at my might-be-former best friend. Sure, I fucked up by keeping my feelings for Bella a secret, but I've been his best fucking friend for more than twenty years. That he assumes I'll just use and discard her infuriates me. He should _know_ I'd never hurt Bella. I'd die first.

After I dress in fresh clothes, I wait on the bed, elbows on my knees, surreptitiously watching as she pulls on the wrinkled dress, grumbling about a ripped seam. I try to hide a smug smile behind my hand, but she catches me.

"I don't even remember you doing this. Did you have to rip it?" But she's grinning too. Probably because now she won't have to pretend she'll wear it again.

"I was in a hurry to get you naked." Why lie? She's lucky I didn't tear the damn thing in half. She was so beautiful last night, but she always looks beautiful, no matter what she wears. Being paired up with her all night without being able to touch her like I wanted to was torture.

A pretty blush stains her cheekbones as she tugs the zipper as far as she can get it.

I take advantage of the opportunity to touch her again and head over to help. Taking my time, I brush a soft kiss on her bare shoulder and ask, "Did you ever find your panties?" My smile becomes a smirk when she shoots me a playful glare.

"Yes, but they won't do me much good." She grabs them from her tiny little bag and holds them up, demonstrating like she's a Price is Right model.

"Sorry." Not sorry. Not even a little bit.

She snorts a laugh. "I bet."

Sometimes, it's like she reads my mind. It's disturbing how much I like it.

"Can I borrow your hairbrush? My hair is kind of a mess."

"I don't have one." My fingers do just fine, thanks.

Bella rolls her eyes. "Of course you don't. No wonder your hair's always a mess."

"You told me it's 'hot,' if I remember correctly."

She smiles wryly. "I did, and it is, but we're talking about my hair, which needs quite a bit more maintenance. You and your wandering hands turned it into a rat's nest."

I stand and walk to her slowly. "You like me, and my wandering hands. Your hair is not a rat's nest. It's beautiful." I reach her and pull her close, one hand at her waist and the other spearing into her hair—where it tangles. Oops. "Wow, I'm sorry about that."

"Not so beautiful now," she laughs.

"Yes, beautiful." I bend down to lay a soft kiss on her smiling lips. "You are always beautiful. And I love you … and your rat's nest."

She pats me lightly on the chest. "You're lucky I love you, too. And your smart mouth."

I kiss her again, but she pulls away too soon.

"I've gotta get back to my room so I can change. Don't want to piss anyone else off by showing up to the brunch mid-walk-of-shame." She wrinkles her nose, and I know she's thinking about Emmett.

Putting a finger beneath her chin, I tell her, "It's not a walk of shame. Are you ashamed? I'm certainly not ashamed—not of you and me. I'm not proud of sneaking around, for wanting to keep us a secret. But it was never because I was ashamed of you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me with her whole body. "It's the same for me. I'm glad we can be honest with everyone now, because I want them all to know how happy you make me."

I squeeze her tight and say nothing, because I'm afraid that no matter how happy we make each other, it won't be the case for everyone else.

.

x

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Brunch is awkward, as you might imagine—if you factor it by ten and then square it.

We silence the room just by walking in, Emmett spends the whole meal watching me like he's itching to get in a few (okay, a lot) more punches, and Bella returns Emmett's glare with the fury of a sibling that's been bossed around one too many times. To be honest, I'm a little afraid of both of them. I'm already on Emmett's shit list, and I never want to be on Bella's bad side, that's for sure.

When I dare make eye contact, Charlie regards me with the poker face to end all poker faces. I have absolutely no idea what the man is thinking, and that scares me a little. Charlie has always liked me, but that was before I slept with his daughter.

We make the rounds with most of the guests; surprisingly, no one asks about my face, though they sure stare at it. My parents are concerned, but I beg them to let me explain later. I'm sure the way Bella and I stay glued together while Emmett shoots death rays at me is enough to give them an idea.

Bella uses the restroom right before we make our escape, and that's when Emmett corners me. I try to pretend that we're not being watched, but it's pretty impossible. The heavy weight of staring eyes makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Then again, it might be the looming argument. Emmett already got one free punch; he won't get another.

"If you hurt her, I'll do a hell of a lot more than punch you," he growls. "You're supposed to be my friend. You should have talked to me. Instead, you took the coward's way out and fucked my sister behind my back."

"It's not like she's yours to give away, Emmett," I hiss. "She doesn't need your protection, and even if she did, she doesn't need protection from _me_!" I try to keep my voice down, but it's damn hard when I want to get in his face, if only to make him really listen to me.

"She damn well does. She's carried a torch for you for years. You can break her, man. Don't tell her you love her, give her the one thing she's wanted for half of her life, just to make her one of your many flavors." While his words are quiet, they drip with derision.

My hands are shaking fists at my sides. "She is not. A. Flavor. I'm in love with her, and nothing will ever change that."

Bella comes up behind Emmett with a full-on, scary as hell bitch face. Rose trails behind her, looking amused. At least she's not pissed at us for screwing up her wedding brunch. A half smile sneaks across my face as Bella stalks up to her brother, grabbing his arm and digging her nails in.

"I will have Rose drag you out of here if you don't leave him alone. I'm not even kidding."

I don't need her protection, but part of me takes pleasure in her need to defend me. She's like a tiger cub. I take her hand and gently pull her to my side, doing Emmett a favor, since she has to release his arm in the process.

"You just remember what I said, Cullen," Emmett threatens, staring me down.

I smirk. "Not a problem."

"I'll put you in the hospital next time."

Rose steps in. "All right, Killer. We still have to be civil. Go. Sit your ass down, and calm the fuck down." Her ice-blue eyes give him a look that isn't to be fucked with, and Emmett reluctantly follows her back to their table.

I let out a breath, watching them go. When I glance at Bella, her eyes are incredibly sad as she watches her brother reclaim his spot at the head table. He spends the rest of brunch glowering at us. The two of them have always been inseparable, and now that's gone. I don't want that for her, for either of them. Growing up with both of them gave me an opportunity to see firsthand how much they love one another. Now, that connection is broken.

And it's all my fault.

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x

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We don't say much on the ride home. A steady drizzle coats everything in gray, brightening the evergreens and amplifying the grassy-green lawns. The rain gives me an excuse to focus on the road more than usual. Bella is lost in her own thoughts, and I'd give anything to know what she's thinking. I've had enough of my own. No matter how many times I try to puzzle them out, I end up in the same place.

I've destroyed my friendship with Emmett, and I can't do the same to Bella. I won't be the reason she doesn't speak to her brother; she'll never be truly happy if she loses him.

There's only one conclusion—I need to step back.

As much as it will kill me, as badly as it might hurt Bella, she and Emmett could still repair their relationship if I don't stand between them. It's the only reparation I can make for my oldest friend, and the only gift I can give to the woman who has my heart, even if she won't understand it at first.

Even thinking about it rips at my chest, squeezes my heart to a bloody pulp. Bella has become my life in only a few short months. Or maybe she always was, I just didn't know it when we were younger. I have no idea how I'll do it, how I'll live without her—but it's the only way. Bella will get over me.

I was never good enough for her in the first place.

"What are you thinking about?" Bella's soft voice startles me.

Pulling into her tiny driveway, I cut the engine. I can barely look at her. Avoiding her question and her eyes, I suggest, "Let's go inside." I grab the umbrella and retrieve her overnight bag from the trunk before helping her out the passenger door. I keep her dry, leaving myself out in the rain. It seems fitting. I can feel her gaze on me the whole way.

I leave the umbrella on the porch and guide her inside and up the steps, where I set her overnight bag next to the tiny table near the entryway. She sits on the couch with a sigh, holding a hand out to me, but I don't follow her.

"Aren't you coming in?" she asks in a puzzled voice.

I suppose I should make eye contact while I say what I'm about to, so I approach the couch and sit at the opposite end. I still can't bring myself to look at her. She's too beautiful, too good, and I'm about to crush her.

"Edward, what's wrong?"

She scoots toward me on the couch, and I lean away. If she touches me, I don't know how I'll be able to do this.

"Seriously. You're acting really weird. It's making me worried."

I take a huge breath and blow it out. "I don't think this is a good idea." Finally, I'm able to meet her eyes, and they're big, brown, beautiful, and full of confusion.

"What's not a good idea? Sitting on the couch? Staying in tonight?" Her voice is wary, making me feel like an utter shit.

I am, of course. I'm a completely heartless bastard for hurting her like this.

"This. Us. It's not a good idea right now." There's a tremble in my voice, and I hope she doesn't notice.

"What?" she asks flatly, her brows winging down in displeasure.

Good. If she's pissed off, this might be easier. God help me if I make her cry.

"We can't do this anymore. You're so young. We just don't … fit." I'm bleeding out inside, but I can't let her know it.

"What do you mean, we don't 'fit'?" Her hands curl into fists at her sides and her back stiffens. "I'm too young for you? How the hell does an eight year age gap mean I'm too young for you? I'm twenty-three, not thirteen!"

"You're still in grad school. You should be focused on your studies. I'm more established in my career path—"

"You're barely out of residency, Edward. Get over yourself."

She's so fucking right—I'm swimming in bullshit up to my neck, but I'm clinging to any flimsy reason I can find just to keep from falling at her feet, and taking back everything I've just said.

"I remember when you were born, Bella. I think I even sat on your parents' couch with Emmett while we fucking held you."

She shoots up off the couch and glowers down at me. "That sure didn't seem to bother you last night, when you were fucking me."

Squeezing my eyes shut at all the images those words evoke, ones that have nothing to do with watching her grow up and everything to do with the grown woman I'm in love with, I grit my teeth and take her anger, feed on it.

"I can't do this anymore. I've been selfish, and now you and Emmett won't speak to one another. If I'm not in the picture, things can go back to normal."

"I know you're an only child, so this might be news to you, but siblings fight. It hasn't even been a day since Emmett found out! Why are you giving up so easily?" Her eyes glisten, and one tear falls. She swipes it away, appearing more angry than before. "You're a coward, Edward. Was Emmett right? Now that you've had what you want, are you done? Do you not want me anymore?"

"No." It's all I can get out through the tightness in my throat, the suffocating ache in my chest. I want to explain, to tell her no, it's not that I don't want her, it's because I want her too much. I want her happiness above my own, and I know she needs her brother more than she needs me.

"You don't want me," she whispers, her eyes going flat.

"I don't want to destroy your family," I explain quietly, and hope those words are enough.

Bella is silent, watching me with a somber, hopeless stare. Needing to touch her one last time, I take a chance and cup her face with shaky hands. Her forehead is cool, clammy on my lips as I press a soft kiss above her brow. "Take care of yourself, please," I whisper, fighting the sting in my eyes and the words on my tongue. _I love you_.

Unable to stand it a minute longer, I head for the door and quietly shut it behind me, leaving her alone.

I wish I could take her pain away—make it like I never even existed.

Unfortunately for both of us, that's impossible.

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x

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A broken water main on my route home gives me plenty of time to think. Somewhere during minute nine of gridlock, I realize what I should've known the minute this stupid idea formed in my head—I've made a terrible mistake. I promised Emmett I wouldn't hurt Bella, but what's the first thing I do?

I didn't just hurt her, I crushed her. And now no one is happy—not Bella, not Emmett, and certainly not me.

What in the ever-loving fuck have I done?

Did I really just devastate the love of my life because I thought it would be better for her? Who the hell am I to make that decision? I think of the tears that welled in her eyes, how only one of those fuckers fell. She blinked those tears back and tore me a new asshole. My Bella is strong and brave, knows what she wants and goes for it. Today, I'm the complete opposite.

Desperate to take back everything I said, I dial Bella's number and wait, heart in my throat, pounding in my ears.

Voicemail.

I can't say I'm surprised. I leave her a rambling, pleading apology, and try again anyway.

Voicemail.

Since I'm not going anywhere in this fucking traffic nightmare, I figure it's safe to text.

 **Please call me. I made a mistake. I love you.**

Nothing. Not even those stupid dots.

I send off a few more messages, but there's no response to any of them.

I'm such a fucking idiot. Maybe she shouldn't forgive me. Leaving her like that, letting her think I don't want her, it was the lowest thing I've ever done.

I pound my steering wheel in frustration, wishing I could plow through the other cars and speed back to Bella's place. Why couldn't I have had this epiphany in her fucking driveway? Or at least some point where I could turn around, drive back to her house, and beg her to forgive me. I can't believe I ever thought leaving her was the best idea. What a dick move.

I've got a lot of work to do, if I'm going to make it up to her. And I'm _going_ to make it up to her.

Emmett said I'm not good enough for her, and he might be right. But I will be.

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* * *

Oh, shit. He New Mooned her. Please don't kill me—at least he came to his senses, right? Now, what the heck will Bella do about it?


	16. Chapter 16

_Early chapter, because I sure pissed a lot of you off. Yikes. I'm sorry, okay?_

 _Thank you to SarcasticBimbo for cleaning this up._

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIXTEEN—BELLA**

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I cannot believe he did that to me.

Did he really just do that?

How can you break up with someone for their own good?

He's an idiot, that's how.

A stupid, moronic, obtuse, stubborn, boneheaded idiot.

I should have had Jake bite him. Not like he would've, since the big doofus loves Edward just as much as I do. Did. Ugh. If I ever see him again, I'm going to find a way to cover his jeans in hamburger and laugh while Jake bites him in the ass. Not sure how I'll make that one work, but I'm resourceful. Just not realistic.

After taking Jake out and feeding him, I flop down on the couch and kick my shoes across the room. One of them hits something breakable, but I don't even care enough to see what. The tears I held back while Edward stomped on my heart begin to leak from the corners of my eyes.

As I lay there feeling sorry for myself, a sinister voice creeps into the back of my mind. Maybe this is what he does—he gets what he wants and takes off. Maybe I fell for the pretty lies he tells every other girl. Maybe Emmett was right.

It would be easier if I could write him off as a douchebag. But the thing is—I know Edward loves me. He was hurting too; I could see it. The tone of his voice, the dimmed light in his eyes, the slight trembling of his lips when he kissed me goodbye.

On the damn forehead.

Jake's claws tap on the hardwood as he comes to sniff at my face. He bumps his nose against my cheek and whimpers when I don't move. I can't even bring myself to pet him. I'm never leaving this couch. The same thoughts keep swirling in my head as I try to make sense of Edward's fucked up logic. Eventually, Jake curls up right under me, watching the door for someone who won't show.

My phone chirps somewhere in my bag, but I don't answer. Right now, talking to someone is last on the list of things I want to do. It rings again, then sounds off in a flurry of texts. It's probably Emmett, and I don't want to talk to him. The one I want is gone.

.

x

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Early the next morning, I wake up with a crick in my neck and an aching back. I also wake with a sense of resolve. If Edward wants to throw away the best thing that's ever happened to him, it's his loss. No matter how much it hurts, I won't let that pain run my life. That's what I tell myself, anyway. Knowing is half the battle, right? That's what GI Joe says. And who doesn't trust GI Joe?

So I refuse to mope. I refuse to wallow. I'm utterly, completely, and totally pissed off. And that's all I'm going to let myself feel. I'm going to keep going and let that anger fuel me until I can deal with the other stuff.

Right after I find a voodoo doll on Amazon.

Armed with my shaky determination, I roll off the couch, greet Jake and do his morning routine. Afterward, I head for a hot shower, then dress in my most comfy, loose fitting clothes. I plan to eat my feelings today, and I need some Thanksgiving pants (thank you, Joey Tribbiani). Luckily, there's ice cream in my freezer and the makings for sea salt chocolate chip cookies in my pantry. Ice cream, cookie dough, and cookies. Perfect for a day of emotional eating. But I'm not wallowing. I'm not.

As I head into the kitchen, my phone rings, reminding me of the calls and texts from last night. I dig the phone out of my purse to see what was so important. My jaw drops when I see two voicemails, a bunch of missed calls, and several texts from Edward. The strong, independent woman inside of me insists I delete them. The heartbroken fool wants to read them all a million times and play the voicemails over and over just to hear his voice. There goes my Stay Angry plan. Shit.

I do manage, however, to ignore the messages. Edward can wait—he's not getting any more of my time today. My need for coffee, however, cannot.

I've just sat down with a huge, fragrant, steaming mug when my doorbell rings. I'm not taking visitors today, so I don't even bother to check who it is on the video feed. I have a sneaking suspicion it's my asshole brother.

"Go away, Emmett," I yell down the steps. I'm not dealing with him today. I take a healthy sip of the heavenly, super sweet, cream-laden coffee.

The bell keeps ringing. Dammit, I'm trying to get my caffeine fix here. I need the energy—it's hard to scoop ice cream when it's straight out of the freezer.

"I'll call the police. A trespassing charge wouldn't look good, Detective Swan!"

More doorbell. Jake starts barking.

I pat him on the head. "Good boy, Jake." Then, louder, "Don't make me sic him on you."

Even more doorbell. God, he's a persistent bastard. "Fine," I mutter, setting aside my precious coffee and giving it a longing look. If Emmett is hankering for an ass-kicking, he can have one. Jake follows me down the steps, tongue lolling out and tail wagging like he's looking forward to seeing who's behind the door. "Traitor," I mutter as I hook him up to the leash.

I yank open the door, my best scowl firmly in place. "Emmett, I told you…" My voice deserts me as I take in the man on my front porch.

Edward.

My body goes hot, especially my cheeks, but it's an angry flush. Really, it is, I promise. It's not because I'm happy to see him. Not at all.

Half of his face is obscured by a giant bouquet of neon daisies. The flowers are hideous, but they're something I can focus on other than his stupid, pretty face.

"What is that?" I cross my arms over my chest. Jake rushes past my legs and fawns all over Edward, snuffling around and wagging that unwieldy tail. Every swipe slaps me in the leg. He's such a Benedict Arnold. No more table scraps for him!

"It's all they had at the store—"

"You brought me grocery store flowers? Wow. Don't try too hard, Edward."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to get here as soon as I could." He holds the bouquet out for me to take, but I don't move.

I do, however, make the mistake of looking him in the eyes. His left eye boasts one hell of a shiner, but the stark blue and purple bruise only serves to accent his gorgeous eyes. They're pleading, shining green and earnest. I remember the way he used to look at me, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. That wide, happy smile … No. I will not be fooled by that face, that smile, ever again.

"What are you doing here?" I cross my arms over my chest, as if the feeble gesture will protect my wounded heart.

He sighs, looking miserable, which gives me a smidge of satisfaction. "Bella, I made a huge mistake."

I shake my head, trying to wrap my mind around this development. Talk about mood swings.

"You dumped me. Pretty sure that means we don't give each other flowers."

"Love, I—"

"I don't want to see you, Edward. It hurts too much. You … you should go." To my utter mortification, my throat gets tight and tears well up. I try to blink them away, but one rogue spills down my cheek. I can't look at him right now. "I need you to go." I start to push the door closed, but he sticks a foot in at the last minute. Briefly, I contemplate slamming it right on his stupid, dirty, black Nike.

Taking advantage of my hesitation, Edward drops the flowers and shoulders his way inside. One warm hand comes up to cup my cheek, a gentle thumb smoothing the wetness away. My eyes flutter closed and I drink in his touch. Just for a moment, I promise myself.

"Don't cry," he says, whisper soft. "Please, Bella. I love you."

Though I'm melting inside, I manage to back away. "Don't touch me." I'm not sure I can say anything else without sounding like a crying mess. Or, maybe I'm afraid I'll give in and take him back just so I can feel his arms around me again. Jake looks back and forth between us, his face a perfect mask of canine confusion.

Edward doesn't give up, following my every backward step, until I hit the stairs. He leaves about a foot between us, and I'm both thankful for and disappointed by the distance. I fix my gaze somewhere in the center of his chest, right on the logo for some 10K race put on by the hospital. Stupid, athletic, persistent bastard. Anyone crazy enough to run six plus miles at one time—for fun—has to be missing a few books from the stack, right?

"I made a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I … I did the worst thing."

"Yeah, you did. How could you do it?" More tears, angry tears, betray my inner turmoil. My body and half of my head is drawn to him like a magnet. But then I remember last night's words. The blank look on his face, the way he looked me right in the eyes and ripped my soul in half. "You hurt me, Edward. You won't get a chance to do it again."

I take a peek at his face. His eyes are closed, brows drawn. Jaw tense, lips almost trembling. Those lids lift and he catches me watching, his eyes luminous and intense. "I don't need another chance, because I'll never do it again. Bella, I was so stupid. I thought I could make things better if I stepped back. There's a rift between you and Emmett because of me, and I didn't know any other way to fix it."

"It's not your place to fix it, Edward. We both knew he would throw a shit fit if he found out about us, and neither one of us cared! And why the fuck does it matter if my brother doesn't approve? He'll come around. All he really wants is for someone to respect me, to treat me right. I thought that was you.

"Yesterday morning, you told Emmett that I'm a big girl and can make my own decisions. That we were equals. Do you know how amazing that made me feel?"

His shoulders sink and he lets out a breath, then drags a hand through his hair.

"I was so happy, Edward. Even with all the Emmett stuff hanging over our heads, I was fucking ecstatic. You and me, we were out there, no secrets. And what's the first thing you do? Make my fucking decisions for me! Don't I get a say in who I date? Spend time with? Who I love? Apparently not, since you just fucking broke up with me 'for my own good'." That's right. I got out the air quotes.

My chest is heaving like I've just run one of his damned leisure races. I've just dropped more f-bombs than I ever have in a five minute period, and I'm so angry that tears are running down my face, which I don't even bother to stop. "You said you loved me—"

"I do! I do, Bella, please—"

"How could you love me one minute, and leave me the next? Love doesn't do that, Edward."

I dash some tears away, and in the second I have my eyes closed, he sneaks in. I have nowhere to go, other than fall back onto the steps, so I let him take my hand and thread our fingers together. But only because it's better than the alternative of throwing out my back. Jake sits his butt down by the door, staring me down, and I can practically hear his thoughts.

 _Hug him, Mom. We like him. Then feed me. Food. Food. Food…_

Even though he's a dirty traitor, Jake's mere presence is enough to calm me a bit. I meet Edward's eyes, ready to tell him to go to hell.

"Leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. It was the absolute wrong thing to do. Because loving you? That's the easiest thing. I'm yours, Bella Swan." He pulls our hands up and kisses my knuckles.

My insides start to melt, but there's no way I'm going to let him know it. "What's your return policy? I've got plenty of reasons, and they start with self-righteous and end with ass. Oh, and my favorite—I'm too young for you. That's a pretty solid reason. You said so yourself."

"I deserve everything you've said, and probably more. But I will never stop trying to win you back, Bella. I'll spend my life making sure you know you're the most important person in it. I'm so, so sorry that I hurt you. It's the last thing I ever wanted to do."

He brushes a lock of hair back from my face and tucks it behind my ear. Warm fingers graze my neck as he cradles my head in his palm. Pleading green eyes beg for another chance, and my heart fairly explodes with the need to give it to him.

But my heart is currently on the DL, so my brain is in charge. And it's feeling biblical. Eye for an eye.

"You did hurt me, Edward. More than anyone ever has. You can't take it back, no matter how much you wish you could. I gave you everything, and you threw it away." I disentangle my hand from his and put it on his chest. "I won't let you hurt me like that again." I push, hard.

It's like trying to move a brick wall, but he takes the hint. His hands drop to his sides as he just stares at me with a resigned expression.

"You need to go." I scoot around him and go to the front door, holding it open wide.

Edward sighs. "Bella—"

"Go."

I'm a surprised when he obeys, but he stops right in front of me, palm on the door. "I love you, and I'll give you whatever you want. Even if it's not me."

I squeeze my eyes shut against the threat of fresh tears. When I open them, he's gone, heading down my front walk to his waiting car. I watch until he drives out of sight and the sound of the engine fades away. Numb, I close the door and trudge up the stairs, where I sink to the floor. Jake trots over to lay at my feet with a soft whimper.

My heart makes the same sound.

.

x

.

Before I go to bed that evening, I rescue the neon daisies from the porch. Some are wilted and crushed, but a few are salvageable. I trim and arrange them in an old mason jar, and place them on the breakfast bar. They're loud and obnoxious, just like my thoughts, which, no matter how hard I try, I can't silence. Exhaustion begins to wear on my heart and my head, until there's no room for anything else. I don't dream, and I count myself lucky.

A couple days go by, peppered with texts from Edward, which I refuse to read.

There's a box waiting on my porch Thursday morning. Briefly, I wonder if I drunk-ordered something from Amazon (it's been a rough few days, filled with a lot of wine), but there's no telltale logo on the box. It's large and unwieldy, and getting it inside while keeping Jake inside the house is almost more trouble than it's worth. Although, when I see what's inside, my stomach doesn't just flip—it does an entire tumbling pass.

Two dozen vivid, blood-red tulips blaze in a bed of greenery, their blooms brash and impossible to ignore. I don't even have to look at the card to figure out the sender—few people know how much I love tulips, and only one of them is on my shit list.

I look anyway, though I shouldn't if I want to stay strong.

 _I will love you every single moment of forever._

Well, dammit. How's a girl supposed to stick to her convictions? I clean up the stems, snipping the ends, and arrange them in my only vase, a huge monstrosity I inherited from Great-Granny Swan. I've never had a big enough bouquet to fill it, but these flowers more than fit the bill. I give them a home on my dresser. Where I can see them when the sun comes up.

After coffee and a shower, I tackle my phone. Again, I debate with myself whether or not to delete everything. But I just can't do it. The texts come first, since I need to work up to hearing his voice.

Sunday, 8:49 p.m. **I made a mistake. Call me, please.**

Sunday, 9:07 p.m. **Please call me, Bella. I shouldn't have left.**

Sunday, 9:36 p.m. **Tell me how I can fix this. I love you.**

Sunday, 9:50 p.m. **I love you. Please call me.**

Sunday, 10:19 p.m. **I'm not giving up.**

After Sunday, the texts slow down, but the content is pretty much the same. My heart squeezes hard, but I need my resolve to be even harder.

The voicemails are more of the same. I don't know what to think about all of this. Edward has been so hot and cold from the beginning, and I certainly don't know if I can trust him. If I let him in again, and he breaks my heart a second time, I might not survive it. I can't make a decision right now; my brain wants a clean break, but my heart says that's impossible.

I need a second opinion, and there's only one person I can count on to be somewhat objective.

I meet Angela for lunch at Red Mill, ignoring the memories of the time I ate here with Edward. When I fill her in on what happened, she looks ready to smack both my brother and Edward. Angela is not a violent person, so I feel vindicated in my urge to junk punch that handsome bastard. Oh, and my ugly brother, too.

"So, let me get this straight: he broke up with you, for your own good?" A disgusted scowl takes over her normally sweet face.

I nod, picking at my fries.

"Then he texted you all night, showed up the next morning with God-awful fake daisies, and begged you to take him back? What in the actual fuck?"

"Yep." The more I think about it, the more hangry I get. My stomach growls. I'm going to devour this whole place.

"The fluorescent ones? Colors that don't exist in nature?" She looks outraged, as she should be.

"Mmm-hmm." Flowers shouldn't be molested like that.

I take a huge bite of burger, ketchup and mayo dripping out the end, landing on my shirt. Perfect. I'll look as messy on the outside as I feel on the inside. I don't even bother to wipe it up. Instead, I grab a handful of fries and shove them into my mouth. I feel like a savage, eating like Emmett always did back when he was in junior high. Actually, he still eats like that, when Rose isn't there to supervise.

Angela watches me, her expression the perfect combination of pity and shock. A little bit of horror, too.

She waits for me to stop chewing and then puts a hand on my wrist. "Step away from the burger, Swan. It's for your own good."

If I never hear those words again, it will be too soon.

I snap, "Don't you even say that to me." I attack my meal with even more gusto.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry. Of course that's a sore spot." She gestures toward my food. "Carry on."

We eat silently until I hit my limit, about three-quarters in. I clean up as best I can and gulp down half of my Coke.

"Have you talked to your parents?" Angela finally asks.

I shake my head. "Nope. I have no idea what I'd tell them. I'm sure they know Edward and I had something going on, but I don't want to explain how everything went to hell."

"Fair enough. Charlie might kill him," she laughs.

"Maybe he needs killing," I grumble, wishing he'd appear so I could slap him. Why didn't I do that when I had the chance?

"So … what _are_ you going to do?" Angela asks, tentatively. She's probably afraid I'll bite her head off again.

I'd like to bite someone else's head off. Like a female praying mantis does to the male. Gruesome, yet fitting. Fuck him, then eat his head. But his thick skull might prove a problem…

"Hello? Bella?"

I blink, shaking my head to clear it. "Sorry." I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling, frustrated tears burning my eyes. Blinking them away, I look at her and shrug. "I have no idea. I really don't. I love him, but how can I trust him?"

"You don't have to decide this minute. Or even this week. Hell, this month. There's no time limit. If he loves you like he says he does, then he'll wait. If he doesn't, then he was never worth it in the first place."

Angela's words resonate within me. She's right. I don't have to decide until I'm ready. I get to make the decisions now, and Edward is on _my_ timeline.

Whether or not he can accept it, if he's worth it, well … that's up to him.

.

x

.

Friday comes with a small bouquet of blue hyacinth, lush greens, and sprays of tiny purple blooms; a bright splash of color in a square, white cube vase. There's a card nestled within, and I'm tempted to trash it. However, my curiosity won't allow it—and we all know what curiosity can do.

Shoving the envelope back into the flowers, I set the vase atop the table in my entryway. My apartment is starting to look like a florist threw up in it. Forcing myself to do anything other than open that card, I vacuum the area rugs and sweep the kitchen, then take Jake out for a walk. He scans the block as if he's searching for someone, and I feel the same way, though I'll deny it to anyone who asks. As we turn the corner for home, we meet up with one of Jake's doggie "friends," a standard poodle named Lisette. Jake's had a thing for her since we moved into the neighborhood. Unfortunately, I get the feeling Lisette's owner, Mike, has had a thing for me since then, too.

"Bella! What's up?" he asks, bounding up to me, while Lisette does the same to Jake. They say some dogs and their owners resemble one another, and that's definitely true for Mike and his pet. They both have out of control, curly hair (think 'N Sync Justin Timberlake), bad breath, and both would gladly sniff my crotch if I let them.

"Not much, Mike." I keep it short and hope he'll take the hint. The last thing I want is to stand out here while Mike tries to hit on me, under the guise of some kind of dog playdate.

"We're headed to the dog park, actually. Wanna come? I'm sure the dogs would love it. We could catch up while they play. Plus, I heard a story this morning about some crazy person in scrubs roaming the neighborhood. We should buddy up."

I must be psychic. Judging by the way his gaze rakes up and down my body, letting our dogs hang out isn't all he's after. I'm not exactly the picture of sexiness in my unwashed hair and ratty workout gear, but he's persistent, I'll give him that. Still, it doesn't mean I'm desperate enough to take a ride on that ghost train.

Not when I've had a ride on the bullet train that is Edward Cullen.

Shit. Now he's back in my head. At least when I'm distracted by Mike the Mutt, I don't have to work at keeping Ed— _him_ out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, Mike. Jake is super tired; we've been out walking all morning." Jake takes the opportunity to make me look like a liar by wrestling with Lisette, then bounding around me in circles until I'm tied at the ankles. "Jake! Dammit."

"I'll help." Mike comes at me, grubby paws extended and smiling with glee.

I shove the end of the leash at him in panic. "Here. Take this while I get untangled." Somehow, by the grace of God, I manage to extract my feet from the leash without falling over.

Mike makes sure to graze his fingers with mine when he hands over the leash. I'm so distracted by trying to avoid touching him that Jake seizes the moment and runs off down the street.

"Jake, get back here!"

Shit. The last thing I need is another run-in with the dog catcher. I take off and leave Mike in the dust, hoping I can catch my dumbass dog before he hits a busy street.

Fuck my life.

.

x

.

After chasing Jake all over the neighborhood—twice—we're both exhausted, and my willpower is gone. I hang Jake's leash on its peg and pull the envelope from its nest of flowers. Just seeing Edward's handwriting wrenches my heart, but it also sparks a few tiny, tattered butterflies in my stomach. With shaky fingers, I slide one beneath the flap and pull out the thick, fancy card stock.

 _Please, give me your heart. I've left mine with you._

A morbid thought enters my mind, and I picture myself ripping Edward's beating heart right out of his chest, like that evil priest in _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_. Sometimes it feels like he did that very thing to me.

He already had my heart, and he broke it. Stomped on it.

I focus on the bouquet, hoping the soothing, happy colors will help me calm down, but the pain resurfaces, in spite of the pretty flowers. Anger bubbles to the surface, facilitated by my sadness, and I grit my teeth in frustration.

Does he really think a bunch of dead plants will win me back?

The thing is—it might be working. Even so, I have to take my time and think it all through. What do I want out of all this? Is it really a life without him? I'm starting to realize it isn't, but I can't just take him back like nothing ever happened. I don't know how to rationalize my feelings about Edward with my sense of self-respect.

The fact remains that I don't know if I can trust him again. He told me he loved me, and literally twelve hours later, he broke up with me.

It's unbelievably, overwhelmingly confusing, and I have no idea what to do about it.

.

x

.

Saturday comes with a mammoth bunch of sunflowers, another of my favorite blooms, tied with a royal blue ribbon. Looks like I'll need to go shopping for a new vase. They're so big, I might have to put them in the Home Depot bucket I have in the storage closet, and these flowers are way too pretty for a paint bucket. Luckily, I find a large glass pitcher and place them on my kitchen windowsill, where I'll see them often. It'll have to do until I can find a new vase.

Today, I don't even wait to open the card.

 _I adore you. Please give me a chance to prove it._

Sighing heavily, I return the card to the bouquet, head to the couch, and plop down, head in my hands. I can't stop thinking about his words—all of them. The hurtful words from Sunday night, the apologies on Monday, the texts and voicemails, and the flower messages. I've yet to make up my mind, but the painful ache in my chest has changed.

I miss him, so much.

It's only been a few days, but the need to see him, talk to him, is growing. Longing is slowly outweighing the anger. I miss his smile, his laugh, the way he teases me. I miss our nights on the couch, the quiet dinners. I miss taking care of him when he shows up after a long shift, and the way he's grateful for the simplest things—like a bowl of cereal or a cold beer. I miss his kisses. His touch. I just miss him.

.

x

.

Sunday brings a mix of delicate violets and full-blown white roses, again in their own vase. The bouquet reminds me of Rosalie's bridal flowers, which triggers a pang of sadness in my heart, and a smile of happiness for my friend. Even if she is married to my dumbass brother. I remember a conversation I had with Rose when I went with her to pick out her wedding flowers. We talked about the different combinations of blooms, and how each one had a special meaning.

I stare at Edward's gift, and lean back against the counter, mind whirling. I rip the card out of the little envelope and stare like it holds the meaning of life.

 _My complete and utter devotion is yours. Let me give you a new beginning._

Violets, a prominent flower in Rose's bouquet, convey devotion and faithfulness, if I remember correctly. White roses represent new beginnings and … marriage?

 _What in the actual fuck?_

With purpose, I stalk to my laptop and start Googling. My mouth successively drops open with each search.

Red tulips are a declaration of love. How did I not know this? They're my favorite flower.

Once I narrow down the components of the second bouquet, I learn that Heliotrope represents eternal love. Blue hyacinths symbolize love's constancy.

Sunflowers speak of adoration.

He's trying to communicate with me through flowers. There's no way all this is a coincidence, is it? Or am I giving him too much credit? What guy knows all that shit, anyway?

Before I can mull on the topic further, the doorbell rings. The mere thought that it might be Edward has my heart racing. I head to the stairs, but Jake beats me there, sniffing at the doorframe and whining. Shit, is it him? Do I want to hug him or kick him in the 'nads?

One look at the video feed negates every feeling but annoyance. Putting on my best bitch face, I stomp down the steps and slowly open the door. Jake leaps forward and plants his big paws on Emmett's abs, and I hope he accidentally steps on his balls. My brother loves on my dog, probably hoping it will get him back in my good graces. Fat chance, asshole. I just stand there, stone-faced and silent.

Finally, Jake has enough and trots back up the steps. Without a word, I follow him, scowling at the sounds of Emmett's big Frankenstein feet on the steps behind me.

"Hi, Bella," Emmett says, face contrite.

"What do you want, Emmett?" I'm going to make him work for it.

"I wanted to tell you I'm sorry," he mumbles, looking at his feet. Big jerk never could give me a decent apology. Must be a big brother thing. Even back when we were kids, Edward would always be the first to apologize when the two of them were assholes.

"What was that?" I put a hand up to my ear.

He rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have punched Edward."

"That's what you're sorry about? You owe that apology to Edward." I'm fuming. Not only because I have to defend Edward and I'm not sure he deserves it, but because my own brother doesn't have the balls to come out with a real apology for me.

Emmett has the grace to look chagrined. "I shouldn't have treated you like a kid. I know you're an adult, but to me, sometimes I still see that sweet little girl I grew up with. Edward's track record with women hasn't been great, and all I saw was a grown man trying to take advantage of my baby sister."

"I grew up with Edward, too, Emmett. You guys were a team, and both of you always took care of me. He's never been anything but kind to me, except when you both were assholes in that big brother sort of way. I always looked up to both of you, but while I idolized you, Emmett, it was always different with Edward. I don't know how else to explain it to you.

"I made my decision, and it was a long time coming. We tried to fight it for a long time, but it happened. We can't take it back. I'm sorry you can't handle it, but it's really not your place." I'm fighting the urge to cry, because all this hurt, all this trouble, might be for nothing. I also don't want Emmett to see me cry, not after the hurtful things he said.

"Bella, I—"

"I can't believe you compared me to some cheap fuck. Like I'd let myself be used like that."

"I was such a fucking asshole, Bella, and I'm so, so sorry. I know you're nothing like that, and now that I've had time to cool off, I know Edward would never treat you like a cheap fling," he says, and it sounds honest, but I don't know if it's enough.

I stay silent, using Charlie's go-to tactic for extracting information. I want to know if he'll say more. Because honestly, he needs to grovel a bit more.

"I really am sorry, Bells. I was an asshole," he says, and I can hear the regret in his voice. "I love you, and I want you to be happy. If that's with Edward, I won't make any more waves. I've never heard him say he's in love before, and if anyone is worthy of being loved, it's you."

"Thanks." I swallow past the knot in my throat and do my best not to let Emmett see my heartache.

He sweeps me up in one of his big bear hugs and I bury my face in his chest, drawing comfort from my big brother's strength in spite of myself. I'm still mad at him, but I can feel my heart softening toward him by the minute. Damn it.

"Holy shit. Did someone die?" His arms drop from around me and he steps into the apartment.

"What?" I don't know how he'd make the jump from our big bro-sis reunion to such a crazy question.

"All these flowers. Looks like you robbed a funeral home. Or a flower shop."

I can feel my face go white as he pulls the card from one of the bouquets. I knew I should've kept those somewhere safe.

He reads it with a frown, then picks the cards out of all the others. I let him, out of some crazy impulse to see if my big brother will defend me. I'm sick, I know. I just made him apologize for something similar, but part of me wants Edward to pay. God, I hate myself.

"What's all this? The only time I give Rose flowers is a birthday, an anniversary, and when I've really fucked up. Your birthday isn't until September, and have you guys even had an anniversary?"

I shake my head, biting my lip.

"So what the hell did Edward do to you?" he all but growls. "These notes sound awfully like begging."

"We broke up." There. That doesn't place blame on either one of us.

"After all the shit that happened, you _broke up?_ "

I nod, unsure what else to say.

"Why? What the fuck did he do?"

"What makes you think I didn't do something?" I shoot back, irked that he assumes I'm the sweet, innocent one. Even though I am.

Emmett grits his teeth. "Can you just be honest with me?"

I give him a dirty look, because I know that comment is a passive aggressive dig. "He broke up with me because of _you_ , okay? He thought being together was ruining my relationship with you, so he decided to step back."

"That crazy motherfucker!"

He's incredulous, much the way I felt when I first heard the words come out of Edward's mouth.

"He's an idiot!" Emmett goes on to say a number of things about Edward's intelligence and his hypothetically questionable parentage, managing to make me laugh in the process.

Once he's done with the imaginative insults, he asks, "So the flowers are an apology? You're not going to toss them?"

"Apology, penance, bribes … I'm not really sure." I shake my head. "I'm sort of wondering how many more he'll send." Plus, I'm looking forward to deciphering any future flower language.

He snorts a laugh. "He's a hard-headed, obstinate bastard. You won't have any room left in this place."

"I guess I'll have to talk to him before it gets that bad." I shrug. Whether or not I'm being truthful is still up for debate.

"Please, if you don't mind, dear sister," Emmett puts a hand on his heart in an exaggerated plea.

I smirk, raising my brows. "Yes?"

"Please, please, please let me talk to him first."

I don't miss the way his fists curl at his sides, but I can't bring myself to say no.

Once Emmett leaves, I pull my phone out of my pocket and select Messages. I choose the name I promised myself I'd never use again, and type one line of text.

 **Thank you for the flowers.**

I don't warn him about Emmett. Edward's a big boy—he can take care of himself.

Also, I've discovered I have a slight vindictive streak.

.

.

.

* * *

 _So… better? Worse? Up next, we'll hear from Edward The Moron.  
_


	17. Chapter 17

_Many thanks to SarcasticBimbo, my lovely beta._

* * *

 **CHAPTER SEVENTEEN—EDWARD**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

When I was growing up, my mother grew red tulips in the front yard. Every March, their green leaves would spike up through the cold ground, and their flowers would paint the waking grass with their bold, crimson declarations of spring. Of all the flowers my mother grew, the tulips were Bella's favorite. Her mother had a black thumb, so Bella was forever begging Esme to let her pick a few of the blood-red blooms. Loving Bella as much as she did, Mom could never say no.

When she was very young, I always sneaked a few extras into her hand-picked bouquet. However, as we grew, and age differences became more apparent, I stopped. After I hit puberty, it didn't quite seem appropriate to give a young girl flowers. I told myself she was simply Emmett's little sister, and friends were all we'd ever be. At that point, I meant it, though I knew I'd die protecting that girl, just as Emmett would.

I'm not sure when those brotherly feelings went out the window, when platonic became something new. I only know I've always had love for Bella, and no matter where it stemmed from, it's not going anywhere. I'm in love with the woman she is now, and I'll do anything to get her back. These last few days without her have been torturous, to say the least. I miss her, so much. She won't answer any of my texts or voicemails, so I'm going to have to get creative.

Which is why I'm currently scouring the city for red tulips. An early spring flower, they're not readily available right now. I've hit about five florists so far, and everyone has tried not to laugh in my face while attempting a sympathetic apology. The universe takes pity on me at stop number seven—the shop has two dozen beautiful, blood-red tulips, which I snatch up in an instant, price be damned.

"Aren't they wonderful? They're left over from a funeral arrangement I put together today," the florist gushes, obviously proud of her work. The blooms are simply arranged and tied with a simple red ribbon the same color as the tulips. They're stunning, actually, but I can't get over the other part of this equation—they're fucking funeral flowers.

I'm going to give Bella funeral flowers.

 _Is this bad luck? What if she finds out?_

I rein in the panic and try to talk myself down.

 _She'll never know if you don't tell her. She probably won't even care. Tulips are her favorite. You have to get the tulips._

I clear my throat and manage, "Uh-huh. They're great."

"Are these for a special lady? Did you know, red tulips are a declaration of love?" The florist grins wide and goes on wrapping the flowers as if she's not dropping bombshells of information left and right.

A declaration of love? That makes them even more perfect. Almost enough to cancel out the whole funeral flower thing.

"No, I had no idea. That's perfect, actually." I give her a small smile and hand over my credit card.

150 dollars later, she hands me the flowers, wrapped in a box, my receipt on the top. "Flowers have all kinds of meanings. You should look them up. They have a language all their own. It's a lost art, in my opinion."

"I'll have to do that," I agree as I back out the door. I smile all the way to the car.

I sit there for some time, staring at the blank card the florist included with the bouquet. I can't exactly fit everything I want to say on a 2x3 rectangular sheet of cardstock. Finally, I go with the simplest truth:

 _I will love you every single moment of forever._

With a smile, I start the car and head home. I have some research to do, and tomorrow morning, I'll play deliveryman.

.

x

.

"What has you so absorbed?"

I look up to find Kate watching me with an amused smile.

I clear my throat. "Oh, I'm…" Not sure what to tell her. That I'm looking up flower meanings isn't exactly something I want to share with my colleagues. No one knows what's going on in my personal life right now, and I'd like to keep it that way, though they know something is up, since I was supposed to be on vacation this week. Instead, I'm picking up extra shifts left and right. I need to stay busy, so I don't obsess about Bella 24/7. And let's not forget the very obvious black eye.

I haven't heard from Bella since I left her the tulips. Not that I expected her to give in so easily, but a guy can hope.

"You've got that look, Edward," Kate says, her face gone serious.

"What look?" I school my expression, trying to appear as apathetic as possible. Fake it till you make it, they say. I've never really had to fake it, so I have no idea how it's going.

"That look guys get when they're in trouble."

I guess the faking it isn't not going well. "I'm fine." I slip my phone into the pocket of my lab coat.

"You don't look fine. You look sad. Not to mention, that's a hell of a shiner." She points to the garish purple and green around my eye.

"I ran into a door," I say with a shrug, unable to keep my lips from twitching. Emmett's fist packs a bit more punch than a door, actually.

"Must've been a big door." She's openly smirking now, as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the lounge table, as if she's settling in for an interrogation. Tilting her head to the side, she asks, "How's your girlfriend?"

I grit my teeth. "She's fine." I hope she is. She won't talk to me, so I don't know either way.

"Wow, that bad?"

I raise a brow at her. "Just because you're shacked up with Garrett now, doesn't make you a relationship expert."

I'm only half kidding. Ever since I introduced her to Garrett, one of the RNs in the OB ward, they've been inseparable. I guess their "interests" are extremely "compatible." Her relationship with Garrett is much more involved than the clinical arrangement she proposed to me. I'm happy for them, but right now it only reminds me of what I don't have.

"I know what a happy person looks like—thanks to you, by the way—and you're not it. For a few weeks, you walked around here like you were high as a kite. Dopey smile, skip in your step, you name it."

"I didn't skip," I snap, frowning.

"But you were happy."

"Yes, dammit." Fuck. She broke me. I don't even know how she did it.

"So what happened? You're definitely not the same. No jokes in the OR, no waves in the hallway, just morose, sullen Edward Cullen with the black eye. Everyone is talking about it."

"I don't even want to know what they're saying," I mumble. Actually I do, but not until I can process the ridiculousness. Ideally, after Bella takes me back and I can function like a normal human again.

"So tell me what really happened," Kate prompts. "Because rumor has it you got caught screwing an MMA fighter's girlfriend."

I can't keep in my laugh. There are some similarities. Emmett could pass for an MMA fighter, and I was sleeping with his sister. Realizing I need an objective opinion, I spill it all: my ever-evolving relationship with Bella, my best friend's little sister; how we kept our relationship a secret; got caught by her brother the morning after his wedding; and, the kicker — I broke up with her the same day, because I thought she'd be better off without me.

"Wow, Edward. You are a colossal asshole." She glowers down at me and picks up an old copy of the Times someone left in the lounge and rolls it up like she's going to try and kill a fly. I make the mistake of blinking, and she actually whacks me upside the head.

"What the fuck!" I cover my head in case she tries it again.

"Exactly. What the fuck? Why would you do that to her?"

"Because I'm a colossal asshole?" I mimic, daring to lower my arms. "I made a mistake, Kate. I even went back to her place the next morning to tell her so, but she kicked me out." Reliving yesterday morning guts me, as if it's happening all over again.

"Smart girl," Kate observes, and I shoot her a dirty look. "So what are you going to do now?"

I sigh and hang my head for a moment, looking down at the linoleum tiles. I look up and meet her eyes with renewed resolve. "I'm going to be persistent. I won't stop until she takes me back." I left her the tulips this morning on the way to work, and now I wait.

A small smile pulls at Kate's lips and she nods. "Good boy. Now, tell me more. Maybe I can help."

And that's how I spent two hours in the doctor's lounge, Googling flowers. Fun times.

.

x

.

When I leave work early the next morning, I have a plan. I've placed all the orders through the same florist that helped me before, who was thrilled to help once I told her the whole story.

I know exactly what I want to say to Bella, and how to say it with flowers. It might not be the most manly thing I'll ever do, but I think she'll appreciate the gesture. I pray she will, because I don't know how else to get my message across, considering she won't speak to me.

I've given her space and refrained from calling or texting, though it's killing me. I'm desperate to hear her voice, if only on her outgoing message. However, I have to let her come to me when she's ready. I promised I'd be here waiting for her, as long as it takes. Forever. Now I need her to believe in me, even though I broke her trust.

The florist opens at ten, so I have a couple hours to kill. I'd love a few hours' sleep, but even though I'm exhausted, sleep won't come. I miss Bella too much.

In need of caffeine, I head to a local coffee shop next to the florist, order the biggest black coffee they sell and a huge slice of banana bread, and wait. I'm hopped up on sugar and caffeine by the time I collect the pretty little bouquet of blue flowers that represent eternal love and constancy, according to Senna—the florist—and Google.

"See you tomorrow morning," Senna chirps. "Good luck!"

I send her a quick wave as I rush out the door. I need to get to Bella's in time to sneak these onto her porch without being noticed.

Her monstrosity of a truck is parked in the driveway when I cruise past. Determined, I park a block over and quickly make my way on foot. This time, it was easier to compose a message for the card. I simply draw upon the truth.

 _Please, give me your heart. I've left mine with you._

If I look suspicious practically running while carrying a box, no one notices. I'd certainly make note of a creeper like myself, but I'm grateful for the neighborhood's lack of vigilance at the moment.

As I near her house, I stop in front of the next door neighbor's for a bit of surveillance. I can't see Jake in the backyard, which is good. I finally determine I could be barked at either way and move on to see if there's movement behind Bella's windows. Nothing. I sneak closer, using a tree as cover. Then I hide in her bushes. Really, this neighborhood is starting to worry me. I look like an escaped patient in my scrubs, sneaking through yards and hiding in the bushes.

As difficult as I imagined it would be to leave the gift on her porch without being noticed, it's incredibly simple in the end. Jake doesn't bark, Bella doesn't peek out the window, nothing. I drop the box at her front door and take off down the street, running like I stole something. And still no one notices.

When I win Bella back, she's moving in with me immediately.

.

x

.

Sunflowers represent adoration. Composing a message for today's flowers is simple: _I adore you. Give me a chance to prove it._

It's a bit harder to sneak a bunch of sunflowers around without catching someone's notice. Carting around a box the size of a rifle case is bound to raise suspicion. A man I can only assume is Bella's landlord sits on the front porch, sipping from a mug. I cautiously approach, doing my best to appear unassuming. Met with a flat stare, I grin and tap the box.

"Flower delivery." I pray he believes me, and hope he won't question why I'm dressed in wrinkled scrubs, and look like a starved vampire. I've worked three twelve hour shifts in a row, and I still can't sleep much, knowing Bella might never forgive me.

"You're that boy who comes around to see Bella." It's not a question, and he doesn't look happy to see me. "Haven't seen you in a while."

I don't know how to explain, so I nod and say, "Yes, sir." I might as well get in my practice now, for Charlie's interrogation. I know it's coming, and I'd be a fool to expect it to be pretty.

He tilts his head toward today's offering. "What's in the box?"

I want to joke, 'Well, it's not Gwyneth Paltrow's head,' but I get the feeling my humor won't be appreciated.

"Flowers, sir. Sunflowers."

The old man crooks a finger. "Let me see."

Obediently, I cross over and lift the lid. He whistles in appreciation.

Looking me in the eye, he says, "You must've screwed up real big."

"Colossally, sir." I busy myself with closing the box. "But I'm trying to make it right."

"You didn't cheat on her, did you?"

Indignant, I counter, "Of course not! I'd never do that to her. I love Bella."

"Then why are you sending her 'I fucked up' flowers?" the man asks with a raised brow.

I stifle a chuckle at his curse and shake my head at my stupidity. "I made the mistake of thinking I knew better than she did. I made a decision I thought was for her own good, and it bit me in the ass."

"That never works out, son. You'll do well to learn that lesson quickly."

"Already learned, sir. Believe me. I came back to apologize the next day, and she kicked me out on my ass."

"She's a smart one, that girl." He nods, then takes a sip of his coffee. "Better get out of here before she sees you. I'll keep your secret, but if you screw up again, there'll be no more help from me."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help."

I deposit the box in front of Bella's door and head down the walk, waving at the old man as I go. For the first time in what seems like forever, a genuine smile crosses my face. Maybe, just maybe, things are looking up.

.

x

.

I manage a few hours of sleep overnight, but I'm up way before the sun, thinking. I'm off schedule today, and it's one of the rare days I'm not on call. All this free time, and the one thing I want to do is spend it with Bella. My good mood of yesterday has evaporated.

If I hadn't been such a clueless idiot, we could be waking up together. Have a quiet breakfast. I could make her coffee, even though she teases me for making it so strong. She always jokes that I should just eat the coffee grounds and skip the brewing. I told her I considered it more than once during my residency.

Outside, the sky is black, and rain sheets down the window. It's a perfect day to stay in, hole up on the couch and binge watch a few shows. After a bowl of cereal and a couple cups of hockey puck coffee, I find myself on the couch, alone. Parks and Rec is one of Bella's favorites, so I queue it up and spend a few hours stretched out under a blanket, watching Ron Swanson's mustache and missing Bella like crazy.

The sky lightens to a gloomy gray, which matches my mood in spite of the comedy I just binged. The rain has petered out, leaving a misty drizzle in its wake. I drag my sorry, depressed ass to the bedroom and dress in slightly cleaner sweats and a random t-shirt. I haven't done laundry since before the wedding and my clean clothes supply is limited.

My fridge is empty, save for some questionable eggs, expired yogurt, a twelve-pack of Stella, and today's flowers. Senna gave me a helpful tip: refrigeration keeps flowers fresher. It works — the bouquet of white roses and violets looks freshly picked, even though I picked them up yesterday.

Armed with a grocery list full of junk food, an umbrella, and the flowers, I head out for the day. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. I miss her too much. If I can just lay eyes on her, it might tide me over until she speaks to me again. I won't even entertain the idea that it might not happen.

It will break me.

.

x

.

No one's around when I pull up in front of Bella's place. It's early, so I don't worry about hiding. I walk right up to the porch, hidden under my umbrella, and gently lay the bouquet in front of her door. Every part of me itches to ring the bell, to try the door and walk up those steps. I remember when I was welcome to do just that, to drop by and step into her waiting arms. Instead, I trudge back to the car and drive off to find the nearest twenty-four hour grocery store.

Arms loaded with enough lunch meat, canned soup, and everything from the chip and cookie aisle, I lug the groceries up to my apartment. As I unpack, I wish I had a clue how to cook something that doesn't come in a can. Food always tastes better when Bella makes it; whether it's a bowl of fruit or a plate full of homemade mac and cheese. She promised she'd teach me to cook, but we never got around to it. I remember looking forward to her lessons, if only so I could follow her around the kitchen and grab her ass. Everything is better with Bella, period.

I grab a sandwich, head for the couch, and waste a few more hours watching Netflix. I must doze, because a knock on my door jolts me awake. I brush stale crumbs off my chest, and run my fingers through my hair, trying to clean myself up a bit in case it's Bella at the door.

Maybe today's the day she decides to talk to me.

My heart races as I hurry to the door. I throw it open, a hopeful smile stamped on my face, which immediately falls when I find Emmett standing in the hallway, looking smug.

"If you came here to hit me again, I won't hold back," I warn. My neck tenses up and I clench my fists at my sides.

Emmett smirks. "Like you can take me. Never could, never will."

"Brains outwit brute strength any day of the week," I shoot back, almost relishing the familiar exchange. All throughout growing up, every disagreement led to this very same argument. For all Emmett's strength, we were almost evenly matched. My lean frame made me quick, while he was slower to react. His fists are like bricks, however. My black eye has started to heal, and I'm not looking for another one.

Emmett surprises me by saying, "Look, Edward. I didn't come here to fight. I came to apologize."

"What?" I never expected an apology from him. Like, ever.

"Well, I came to say I'm sorry for thinking you were disrespecting my sister. And…" He stops, frowning and looking generally constipated.

"And … what?

"And I'm sorry for punching you," he mumbles, as if it's all one word.

I smirk and cup a hand behind my ear. "What was that?"

Emmett rolls his eyes and pushes his way into the apartment. "Shut up, fucker," he growls as he stalks into my kitchen and starts rifling through my cabinets. He comes up with a package of Chips Ahoy, rips into it, and stuffs a few cookies into his mouth.

So … that's it? He thinks we're good and he can eat my precious junk food? No way.

I grab the cookies, eat one, and glare at him, trying to look intimidating as I can with a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.

"What are you doing?" Crumbs fall out of his mouth. "I was eating those."

"You punched me, asshole." Cookie dust flies out of my mouth at the word 'asshole.' "You can't just come in here and eat my food."

"Come on, man. I said I was sorry. Besides, I thought you were pulling a fuck and duck on my sister! What the hell else was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know, maybe ask us what was going on?" I throw up my arms in frustration, sending cookies all over the kitchen. "Shit."

Emmett actually helps me pick them all up, eating a few in the process.

When I give him a disgusted look, he shrugs and says, "Five second rule."

Joke's on him. I can't remember the last time I cleaned the floor.

After cleanup duty, we end up on opposite ends of the couch, casting wary glances as we sip a couple beers.

"I oughtta punch you again," he muses. "You broke the Bro Code."

"Emmett, I'm sorry I went behind your back. It doesn't change the fact that this thing between Bella and me was going to happen no matter what. After I bailed her out of jail, we just kept meeting—"

His eyes about pop out of his head. "Wait. What the fuck did you say? My sister was in jail and she didn't tell me?"

Shit. If Bella finds out I let that one slip, she'll never take me back. "She didn't want you or Charlie to know, so she called me."

"Why the hell was she in jail?" He raked a hand through his hair, looking truly distressed. "It's dangerous in there," he mumbles to himself, and I'm reminded of Bella's attitude that day.

It's one of the things I love about her—her sense of humor, how she shook off her jail time like it was no big deal, but only after she milked it for all it was worth. She thoroughly sold it, so I'd come and get her.

"Snap out of it, Edward. Why the hell was she in jail? Is she on drugs? No, she's not on drugs. She didn't fucking steal something, did she? Oh, fuck. Dad's gonna shit a fucking cinder block."

I stifle a chuckle the image. "It's nothing that bad."

"Not bad? My little sister was in jail! And why are you smiling, asshole?"

I bite the corner of my lip to keep from smiling. "She did steal something."

He drops his head into his hands. "Oh, shitballs."

I start wondering how many more curse words will come out of his mouth in this conversation.

"What did she steal? When's her next court date?" he asks, resigned.

"She stole Jake."

His head pops up. "What? You can't steal your own dog."

"She got caught springing him from the pound."

His laughter practically shakes the couch as he leans back, slapping his knee. Some beer sloshes out of the bottle. Normally I'd be on him to clean it up, but I'm not going to stir the pot when we're on shaky ground.

Once he catches his breath, Emmett says, "Thank fucking God. I thought I was gonna have to pull some strings for a second there."

"Nah, she had to pay a bigger fine, but she's no felon."

We're grinning at each other, and it's almost like it was before.

Then he kills my friends again buzz. "What's up with all the flowers in Bella's apartment? Her place looks like a damn funeral parlor." He pretends like they're questions, but I can tell by the look on his face that he knows. This is Interrogation Lite.

Damn it. "I'm trying to get her back."

He doesn't look as pissed off as I thought he would, and I have no idea why.

"Why do you need to get her back in the first place?"

I look down. "I told her we shouldn't be together, because it was tearing up your family."

"You are such a dumb shit."

I sigh and meet his accusing eyes. "Believe me, I know. I went back the next morning to apologize, begged her to take me back, but she kicked me out."

"Bella's a smart cookie. But for some reason, she loves your dumb ass."

"And I love hers—um, _her_." Great. The last thing I need is Emmett thinking I'm thinking about Bella's ass. I am, but he doesn't need to know it.

"Swear to me this isn't you ducking my little sister," he orders.

I gesture to my unkempt self. "Do I look like a happy man? I'm emotionally eating, for Christ's sake." I point to my kitchen. "There's a cabinet full of cookies, Easy Mac, and ramen. There's ice cream in my freezer. I haven't showered since I came off shift, and I'm single-handedly keeping a florist in business."

Emmett looks thoughtful. "You do make a good case for a broken heart. But you also could be a pothead college student, aside from the flowers. Nice love notes, by the way," he snickers. "Who knew you're such a sap, man? I'll have to save a couple of those for Rose. Did you Google that shit?"

Though this behavior is typical of Emmett, I've had enough of his teasing for the day. Fed up, I stand up so I can tower over him for once.

"Fuck off, Emmett. Those notes weren't meant for you, and I know she wouldn't just let you read them."

He jumps up, making me stagger back. At 6'3", I'm only an inch shorter than him, but he's got thirty pounds of muscle on me.

"What if she did let me read them? What if we laughed about it? What if she's over you?" His voice gets louder with every word, and each one is an ember fueling the frustration burning in my veins.

Mood all over the place, I shove at him, sending beer flying everywhere. "Get out of here. I don't have to put up with this shit in my own house."

"Edward—"

"I can't deal with your jokes right now." I grab the overturned beers and toss them into the trash, then search for some paper towels. "I'm fucked up enough. I'm so in love with your sister I can't think straight, and she won't even talk to me. So I don't need you screwing around with my feelings."

Emmett looks chagrined, but then stifles a snicker. "Please, never speak of your feelings again."

He heads for the door, but stops with a hand on the doorframe. "Just so you know, you're not the only one with 'feelings.' And it's not me." With that, he's gone, and I'm left soaking up spilled beer.

The tightness in my chest loosens a bit. All is not lost, at least that's what I tell myself. It keeps me going.

Later, as I get my things prepared for work tomorrow, I charge my phone and find a message from Bella.

 **Thank you for the flowers.**

I go to bed with a smile on my face.

And I finally sleep.

.

x

.

I frown into my refrigerator. Two dozen red roses take up a lot of space.

After exercising my spatial relations skills, I carefully shut the door, heaving a sigh of relief. In the end, I had to sacrifice the milk, but the look on Bella's face will be worth any amount of dairy products lost—unless she kicks my ass to the curb again. I'm hoping she won't, given her text last night. It's only five words, but that's five more words than she's said to me all week.

Happy with the safety of the arrangement, I head off to work, where I don't have to work so hard to seem normal. I spend most of my time in the OB ward, where I chat with patients while I literally stab them in the back, and they thank me for it afterwards. One husband passes out, and I wonder why some men are such babies when their wives are the ones having them. Then again, I've never experienced it myself, so who knows? I imagine it's quite different when your wife is the one bringing your kid into the world.

I picture Bella, pregnant with our baby and in pain. The thought twists inside my chest and I get a little short of breath. Even though it would be completely unethical, I imagine administering an epidural for her, and my stomach rolls. Okay, so maybe I do get it. When the time comes, when she's my wife and we're having our baby, I'll stick to the dad role, helping her hunch over the pillow.

I'm getting _way_ ahead of myself with this train of thought, but I can't deny it brings a little smile to my face. I want that. All of it.

When my shift ends early the next morning, I head straight home to shower off the hospital, but instead of going to bed, I get ready to leave again. I brush my teeth, dress in jeans and an old t-shirt, and go straight to the fridge, where the roses are waiting and perfect. I make it to the elevator before I realize I have no shoes on. With a curse, I run back to grab them. I catch sight of my hair in the mirror on the way out, but decide it's not worth the extra time it'd take to tame it.

I lock the door behind me and remember I left the roses inside. I'm such a fucking mess. A ball of forgetful, idiotic nerves—because today, there won't be a note. Today, I'm not just dropping off flowers.

Today, I'm going to knock on her door.

.

.

.

* * *

 _I can't believe most of you thought Bella sent Emmett to beat up Edward. Seriously._


	18. Chapter 18

_Hopefully the teams will even out now._

 _Thanks to SarcasticBimbo. Her suggestions make my words better._

* * *

 **CHAPTER 18—BELLA**

.

.

.

When the doorbell rings this time, I know it's Edward—I don't even have to check the Ring app. Jake seems to know as well; he's more excited than usual, which says a lot for a dog with boundless energy. He beats me down the stairs, bracing himself on the door with his paws.

Now, he's here, and even his silhouette is handsome, damn it.

My dog jumps all over him, sounding a flurry of happy barks in greeting. Edward leans down to ruffle Jake's fur, getting licked in the process. His eyes never leave mine, though.

God, he looks good. Even in a rumpled t-shirt and jeans, damp, messy hair, and a pair of flip flops, he's gorgeous. There's a giant bouquet of fat, blood red roses tucked in his arm.

A tiny smile kicks up one side of his mouth. "Hi."

For all the insults I've wanted to hurl at him this past week, my tongue is tied. Having him so close, seeing him with my own eyes instead of pictures in my head, has me reeling. My body hums, my fingers tingle with the need to touch, my arms long to wrap around his waist.

When I do manage to speak, it's only a reflection of his own greeting. "Hi."

Jake plants his butt next to my feet and watches us curiously. Of course, now that Edward is around, he behaves. Figures.

"These are for you," he says quietly, holding out the roses.

I take them, gently stroking the petals before holding the bunch up to inhale the sweet fragrance. I can't help the soft smile on my face. The flowers are fresh, unblemished, petals soft and perfect. Looking up into his green gaze, I ask, "Do I need to Google this or are you going to tell me what they mean?" I don't quite manage to contain the slight smile that pulls at my lips.

"I'm yours," he says simply, arms out, palms up. "Two dozen red roses says 'I'm yours'."

Stepping closer, he trails a finger across a rose petal, and I want, more than anything, to be that rose petal.

As much as I wish I could leap into his arms, I can't. The last time he promised himself to me, he ripped my heart in half hours later. Steeling myself, I question, "Are you mine forever, or just for now?'"

His shoulders sink. "I know I hurt you, Bella—"

"Hurt me doesn't even begin to explain it. You didn't only hurt me; you broke my trust."

Eyes clouded with regret, he rakes his fingers through his hair, then stuffs his hands in his pockets. "I know, Bella. Believe me, I know. I've never regretted something more in my entire life. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you. Ever. I only want to love you, if you'll give me another chance. Please."

Squeezing my eyes shut for a few moments, I sigh. The front porch isn't the place for this conversation, and I need some time to process what he's said. If ever a situation called for stalling, this would be the one.

"I need to put these in some water. You want to come up?"

His face brightens. I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes. _It's not gonna be that easy, buddy._

I feel the need to warn myself, as well. _It better not be that easy, Bella._

Jake sprints up the steps and I follow, trying to ignore the way the skin on my back prickles as Edward trails behind me. It's like every cell in me is drawn to him, down to the molecule. As much as I hate the feeling, at the same time, I love it. It's as if we're hardwired together, tethered by invisible filaments of precious metal. Like us, they're tarnished, but there's a possibility that we'll shine again.

We reach my apartment, and I head to the kitchen for yet another vase. I bought out a whole shelf at Walmart yesterday. The cashier thought I was nuts. She's right, because I know I'm going to forgive that beautiful, sorry asshole out in my living room.

But not without a little begging.

The roses really are beautiful. I take my time clipping the stems, removing old leaves. The gorgeous blooms manage to make my cheap vase look high-class. I pull one rose out and inhale the fragrance once again, brushing the soft petals across my nose.

"Beautiful."

Startled, I whip my head over to find Edward leaning on my countertop, a small, sad smile playing at his lips. Memories flood my mind, of our first kiss, and the many kisses that followed. I attempt to look annoyed, while sentimental thoughts overrun my head.

Tucking the bloom back into the bouquet, I point to the living room. "I'll be there in a sec."

He obeys, but I can tell he's moping. I'm sure he's been moping all week long, but a little more won't hurt him. I leave the roses on the counter. There's no room anywhere else. I have to admire his dedication and persistence. And I've got to give him credit—the whole thing is pretty romantic.

I waste a little more time, unnecessarily rearranging the roses, before I get up the courage to face him. He's on the floor, playing with Jake, who's brought out the favorite toy, the newest in a long line of Tug-a-Rugs. They're so damn cute, playing a game of tug-of-war that no one wins, both too stubborn to give in. Man and dog notice me at the same time, sitting up straight, watching me as if I'm about to give a command. I have to hold in my laugh. If only all of my life could be so easy as this moment.

Edward jumps to his feet like a soldier whose drill sergeant has walked into the room. I briefly wonder if I can get him to salute me.

Taking a step in my direction, he says, "I was an idiot."

"Yep," I interrupt, rudeness not even on my radar.

A smirk pulls at one side of his mouth. "Like I said, I was an idiot, and I'm so, so sorry, Bella. I should've never tried to make decisions for you, or for us as a couple. I didn't give you the respect you deserve, and it's a mistake I'll never make again." He comes closer, until we're less than a foot apart. "You are the most important person in my world, Bella Swan. I want to make decisions with you, not for you. Please, forgive me. Let me love you." Vulnerability colors his gaze, those green eyes deep and pleading, lending even more credibility to his words. Not that I doubt a single part of that speech. I know he means every single word.

But still … he meant every word before. It was all sincere, until it wasn't. Until he decided to throw me away because he thought it would make things better. How can I be sure it won't happen again?

I take a deep breath and focus somewhere in the middle of his chest. The eye contact is too much for me. I'm afraid I might cry; the heaviness of this moment weighs down on me like an anvil. I want so badly to trust in him. I want him just as much as I always have, but the doubt still lingers.

"I'm scared, Edward. How can I trust you again?"

He takes one of my hands and tips my chin up with the other. "I'm never going to give you a reason not to trust me again. I'll spend my whole life proving it to you." His thumb traces the back of my hand, back and forth. "Please, give me a chance."

Despite my resolve, tears gather in the corners of my eyes. I'm swayed by his promises, overwhelmed by his touch.

"I love you." He rests his forehead on mine, and his warmth has me fighting the instinct to sway into him. "I love you," he says again, voice softer, yet more insistent. Releasing my hand, he pulls me into his body, and being wrapped in his arms again feels like heaven and hell.

Balling my fists in the sides of his shirt, I lean back. "You can't make it better with a bunch of flowers and pretty words, Edward."

"I did that because I thought you'd like them."

I give him a pointed look.

He has the grace to look chagrined. "I figured it couldn't hurt my chances. Still, I was trying to tell you how much I love you, when I couldn't do it in the most traditional sense."

"I figured that out. You used Rose's wedding flowers yesterday. She explained their meanings when I helped her order them. Google helped with the rest."

He smiles. "Google is a good friend."

"Until you're sick. Then Google is the devil." We both laugh, and it's so easy to fall back into our old banter. I'm not sure whether it's a sign of weakness on my part or simply a plain old sign that I should stop fighting this.

The laughter fades into a somewhat awkward silence. There's unfinished business here that neither one of us knows how to solve.

Edward speaks first. "I just want to set some things straight. That night, I said some things that weren't true. I want you to know that we do fit, Bella. I'm not whole when you're not with me. Something's missing."

"Then why did you end it? How could you end it?"

He smiles softly. "Didn't we already address that? I'm a grade A idiot."

I don't return his smile. Slipping around his body, I sit on one end of the couch, staring at the wall. From one blink to the next, his body fills my vision as he kneels in front of me.

"I thought I ruined your family, Bella. You know I don't have siblings, but I always wanted one or two. Mom couldn't have any more kids after me, so it's just me. I know how much you and Emmett love one another. I saw it as we all grew up. I couldn't take that away from you. From either of you."

"As noble as that is, you're still an idiot."

"I'm not pretending to be otherwise."

"Emmett and I have already made up, you know. He came by yesterday and apologized for punching you."

Edward snorts. "Should've come to me for that. In fact, he did. Yesterday."

"He sucks at apologies, doesn't he?" I ask with a small smile. "Always has."

"He's horrible. Came over yesterday, gave me a one-liner, and then started eating all my junk food."

I laugh a little. "I bet. I already ate all my feelings, so there was nothing left for him to find."

He takes my hand and threads his fingers through mine. "I'm sorry I gave you feelings to eat."

My smile gets bigger. "You're so weird."

"I'll be whatever you want me to be, love."

"Is that a line from your medical school escort days?"

"Of course you remember that," he says, sighing. "You have the memory of an elephant."

I can't resist. "Don't you forget it."

"That's terrible, Bella," he laughs, and I realize I'm laughing, too.

I've felt better in the last five minutes than I have the last week. And being happy with him feels a hell of a lot better than missing him and hating him at the same time. Giving him a second chance is the only thing that makes sense to me. Why should I make us both miserable by holding on to the mistakes, hurt feelings, and misunderstandings?

We both deserve a second chance; a chance to do this right. To be together out in the open, instead of hiding everything from our friends and family.

We're quiet once again, and I can see the fragile hope in Edward's eyes. It matches what's in my own heart. I disentangle our hands and watch that light dim, but he doesn't know what's coming. I throw my arms around him, hugging tight, breathing him in. It feels like ages since we've been this close. Ages since I felt his soft hair sift through my fingers. Ages since I felt his heart beating against mine.

It takes him a moment to catch up, but when he does, he nearly squeezes the life out of me. "I missed you," he whispers. "So much." He pulls me off the couch and into his lap.

"Me too. Don't you ever do anything like that again." I'm crying into his neck, but this hug feels so good, I don't even care.

He pulls back and holds my face in his hands. "Never. I'm yours, Bella. No returns. You break it, you buy it."

"Shouldn't I be saying all that?" I ask wryly.

"As you're fond of saying, 'semantics.' You broke me in the best way, love. You stormed in, snapped me in half, and put me back together better than I was before."

I grin, even as the tears dry. "So … you're mine."

"Yeah. And you're mine." His smile is so bright, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that adorable way he has.

"Who said anything about that?" I tease.

His eyes go dark and predatory, and his lips meet mine in a gentle kiss. It goes on like that until I'm done with the taunting, and reach up to rake my fingers in his hair and grab. He growls low in his throat, nipping at my bottom lip and licking away the sting. When our mouths meet again, I take charge, moaning at the taste of him. Tongues swirl and teeth tease, lips cling. I've missed this. Missed him.

Feeling overwhelmed, I pull away, and he tries to follow. I open my eyes to find him watching me, questions written plainly in his beautiful green eyes.

"I need a minute," I explain, touching my lips, feeling the heat from the outside. Kissing Edward has always made my head spin, but today, it's so much more. After the devastation and anger of the past week, these kisses feed the new hope blooming in my chest, the happiness in my heart. It makes me dizzy, sets my world off-kilter in the best way.

"Is something wrong?" he asks, voice soft, almost wary.

I shake my head. "It's just … I missed you."

A soft smile plays at his lips. "I've missed you, too. Every minute of every day."

Returning his smile, I say, "I missed you, but I was so mad. I didn't know which emotion was stronger, and that pissed me off even more."

"Believe me: as pissed as you were at me, I was probably more pissed at myself for throwing it all away."

I laugh. "I don't know; I was pretty mad. I wanted to feed your balls to Jake."

One of his hands automatically tries to go to his balls, but I'm sitting on his lap. He looks down between us and back up to me, then slides his hand around to grab my ass instead.

"Too soon?" He gives me a half hopeful, half-joking grin.

"Way too soon. I could still decide to feed your balls to Jake."

He cringes at the visual again, but breathes, "Please, don't."

As if he knows we're talking about him, Jake ambles over, panting happily, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth. He goes to Edward first, and swipes that tongue all over his face, which I know Edward hates. He tolerates it well, though.

"Thanks, Jake," Edward says, trying to hide his distaste. "Good to see you, too, Buddy."

I smile, watching the two of them. Jake's the one who brought us together, really. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't gotten arrested for "stealing" my own dog. I'd like to think Edward and I would have ended up together no matter what, but who knows?

What I do know is: I wouldn't have it any other way.

.

x

.

"Why are you so worried, love?" Edward calls from the living room.

He knows I'm stalling, though I'm trying my best to hide it. "I'm not worried," I call back.

Oh, but I am. I don't know why I'm so worried. It's not like my parents have never met Edward. It's not like he's knocked me up. It's not like I'm bringing home a criminal or a bum. I'm bringing home someone my parents like and respect, someone intelligent and educated.

And hot as fuck, but I doubt my parents care about that particular attribute.

Nevertheless, I'm nervous. My parents have not met Edward as my boyfriend, and I don't know how to process the situation. I went through this a week ago, when we had dinner with Edward's parents, and everything went fine. There's no reason to expect things will be different this time.

I smooth on a bit of lip gloss and stare at the girl in the mirror, looking for the confidence that's gone missing. Taking a deep breath, I smooth my hands down the deep blue jersey cotton of my maxi dress and head for the living room.

Edward, who's been lounging on my couch while I worked through my minor freak out, hurries to his feet as I enter the room. I smile at his chivalry, because he's always been this way, ever since his our mothers made him and Emmett take a cotillion class when they were in middle school. While Emmett forgot every lesson as soon as it had been taught, those manners stuck with Edward. I'd thought it was silly back then, but I appreciate it now.

"You look beautiful," he says in a low voice as his eyes rake me up and down. While his actions and words are gentlemanly, the way he looks at me is not.

"You can't look at me like that in front of Mom and Dad," I warn with a smile.

"I know. That's why I'm looking my fill now." He holds me at arm's length and drags his gaze up my body again. "I love this dress." Leaning forward, he kisses my earlobe. "Lots of room for my hands under that long skirt." His teeth scrape, and I lean into his body. "Lots of room to hide what I'm going to do to you underneath the table."

With a scandalized gasp, I pull back. "You. Will. Not. Not at my parents' table!"

"But what if I want to make up for all that lost time? All those Swan family dinners, when I could have been feeling you up under the table…"

I raise a brow. "I was underage for a good majority of those dinners." I pause, curious. "Were you ever thinking about that?"

"Honestly, no. That part came later." He wraps his arms around me, drawing me up against him. "But now I think about it all the damn time."

"Can you stop, just for an hour?" I flatten my hands on his chest and smile teasingly. I'm sure it's not lost on him that I'm blatantly copping a feel while asking him to keep his hands to himself.

"It's going to be very, very difficult," he says, gravely serious. "I might need something to tide me over," he continues, voice dropping to a whisper. The last word lands on my lips. His mouth brushes mine and he hums in approval as I rise up on tiptoe to meet his kiss. A hand slides down low to cup my ass, squeezing less than gently as he drags his tongue over mine, and I'm lost. We kiss until I'm breathless, until I can feel Edward's cock pressing against me.

"That escalated quickly," I breathe when we part.

He smirks. "I always rise to the occasion."

I roll my eyes. "Really? That was awful."

Rubbing himself against me, he repeats, "Really. But," he drops a soft kiss on my lips, "we've got to go. I don't want to give Charlie another reason to be mad at me."

"He's not mad at you, Edward." I grab my purse and head for the door.

"I'm pretty sure he's mad. He's mad that his son's best friend cradle-robbed his little girl." He follows right behind me, but we stop at the top of the steps.

"You're overthinking this," I try to tell him, but he's not listening.

"But Emmett said—"

"Exactly! Emmett. The person you should ignore. He's just trying to make you nervous."

"No, he's trying to give me a heads up."

I start giggling and have a hard time stopping. "You're playing right into his hands. He wants you to be nervous, so he's feeding you that 'Charlie is mad' bullshit. All Dad wants is to know you make me happy, and you do."

A wide, happy smile softens his worried face. "It's all I want, too. To make you happy."

"Then stop listening to Emmett. He's stirring shit for his own entertainment. Really, you should know this. You two have only been best friends for oh, most of your lives."

Edward sighs, shaking his head. "I should have known."

"Well, just think about how disappointed Emmett will be when he finds out his plan didn't work," I tell him with a sly grin. "Now, let's go. Dad might not be mad that we're together, but he's a stickler for punctuality."

Edward looks at his watch, and I can see the nerves return. I almost feel bad. Charlie won't give a rat's ass if we're late.

Emmett isn't the only one who likes to stir shit.

.

x

.

Edward fits in seamlessly, just as he did when we were kids. Earlier, when we arrived fifteen minutes late, Dad welcomed him with a handshake and a hint of a grin beneath his mustache. Edward looked surprised, yet relieved, though I did catch him looking around, likely for a firearm of some sort. When he realized we wouldn't be called out for being late, he shot me a suspicious look. I put on my best innocent face and followed Mom to the kitchen to help with last minute dinner stuff.

"I knew something was up after Bella went to college," Dad says over his second helping of strawberry shortcake. "Any time Edward and Bella were in the same room together, they both looked like they were in pain."

Mom nods. "You have no idea how hard it was for me to stay out of it. I always thought you two would make such beautiful babies—"

"Now, Renée—"

"Mom! Stop." My face is literally on fire, I'm sure of it.

Edward laughs. "It's a little too soon for that, Renée, but we'll see."

I look at him with wide eyes, to which he shrugs. He's got one of those enigmatic expressions on his face, one I can't decipher. I can't tell if he's serious or not.

"It'd better be too soon. Bella still needs to graduate," Dad cuts in.

It's not lost on me that he's not objecting to me having babies with Edward, it's just the timing.

"Well, anytime you want to get started on that," Mom starts, but I start to get up from the table while I threaten her.

"Mom, I swear if you don't—"

"Okay, I'll stop. It's just that we've expected this might happen for a while. We forget how new this is to the two of you."

The desire to disappear wanes slightly in the wake of Mom's admission, and I drop back into my seat. Edward takes my hand, grinning that crinkly-eyed grin.

On one hand, I'm sorry that Edward and I were so clueless, sad about that wasted time we could've spent together. On the other, I know we needed that time to grow, and get ready for one another.

"Okay, Renée. Enough with the sap stuff," Dad says gruffly, pinning Edward with his cop stare. "What I want to know is, what made you two take your heads out of your asses?"

"What?" Edward asks, a puzzled look on his face.

Charlie rolls his eyes. "What got you two together?"

Oh, no. Please, Edward, don't…

But he does. He bursts out laughing, and says, "Well, it all started the morning I had to bail her out of jail…"

.

.

.

* * *

 _And that's all she wrote. Epilogue to follow. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing._


	19. Epilogue

EPILOGUE—EDWARD

.

.

.

We've only been together four months.

Almost six, if you count the time we kept our relationship a secret.

It's too soon … but the ring in my pocket says otherwise. As does the dent in my trust fund and, most importantly, the tug in my chest every time I look at her.

It may be too soon for some, but not for us. Bella and I have been moving toward this moment for a long time. So fuck what anyone else says. This—tonight—is right for us.

She'll be here any minute. I look around my condo, noting the differences that weren't there a few months ago. What was once a plain, soul-sucking bachelor pad now looks like a home. It wasn't easy—shopping for furniture is torturous, even when one is accompanied by their very favorite person. But the result is a cozy, lived in effect that's more than just a place to crash. A new coat of paint, some plants, and a few pictures were all it took. The pictures are of us, and I smile every time I pass one of them.

Yeah, I'm gone for her—and I'm not interested in coming back.

A bouquet of fifty red roses dwarfs my dining table, in all their romantic shock-value glory. They're over the top, but, according to Senna, they symbolize eternal love. They're also an echo of our reunion, something she won't miss and will likely give me brownie points. I like to hedge my bets.

She'll be here any minute, and I almost can't bear the wait. Nervous energy saturates every cell, and dances along my spine. It's hard to stay still. I'm not truly nervous she'll say no. I'm not nervous about nailing every single detail.

I simply can't wait to ask her.

I can't wait for her to be mine in one more way.

The way our lives fit together is seamless. Though I still work a tough schedule, I don't work as much. Knowing Bella is waiting for me is too tempting to continue to work all those extra shifts. This summer, we've been able to spend lots of free time together, whether we're out exploring the city, hanging out with our friends, or staying in on the couch. Sadly, our play time is about to be curbed. Bella's starting her last semester of grad school, and since she'll be less available, seeing each other will be tough.

That's why I want her to move in. And marry me. In either order, as long as one of them begins today. I'm not picky. I mean, I even let Jake into my house. He's here, now, ruining one of my rugs with his constantly shedding fur. I've had to break down and buy one of those vacuums specialized for pet owners. I suppose I am one, since he and Bella are a package deal. I also sort of like the bastard, if I'm honest.

No one blinks an eye that Bella and I are together. No one, aside from Emmett's initial reaction, has said one derogatory word about our relationship. Not that it would change my mind. All that worry and secrecy, for nothing. If I'd just manned up and told Emmett how I feel about Bella, I could've spared us a lot of trouble. None of it matters now, though.

A key turns in the lock (she's had one for a couple months, now), and Bella comes spilling into the room, tripping slightly over the threshold. "Whoops!" she says as she rights herself. Jake bounds over to greet her, his body practically vibrating in excitement. She pats his head and croons to him until he goes to spread his fur all over another piece of my furniture. We had a long day at the dog park while Bella ran errands and had dinner with Angela, and I wore the fucker out.

"Hey," she says, grinning. She holds out her arms and I go to her, like a magnet to metal.

"I've missed you," I murmur into her neck as we hug. I plant a little kiss there, enjoying the way it makes her squirm.

She pulls back and pecks me on the lips, which turns into much more. When we finally pull away, I ask, "How was dinner with Angela?" It must've been fun; there's definitely alcohol on her breath. That doesn't bode well for my proposal.

"She's having boy issues," Bella says, making a face, before clapping a hand over her mouth. "I'm not supposed to say anything."

I smile. She's adorable when she's buzzed. "You can tell me. Who would I tell?"

She turns red as she considers it. "I don't even know how to explain it."

"I'm sure I can keep up." This has got to be interesting, to have her so embarrassed.

"Angela's boyfriend, Ben—you remember him?" When I nod, she continues, "He's bisexual, and they had a threesome with this guy Eric, and now Ang has a crush on the other dude, and Ben doesn't know, and see why I didn't want to say anything? It's so personal—"

I hold up a hand. "Whoa. Slow down," I laugh, shaking my head at her rapid flow of words. I'm sort of speechless.

"I had absolutely no advice for her, so I took her to happy hour and we had margaritas," she finishes.

"I would've done the exact same thing," I tell her with a nod, at a loss for anything else to say. Talk about a weird situation. And in light of what I had planned for tonight, I don't really want to spend any time analyzing Angela's love life. Fruitful as it may be.

My plan has been derailed by the almighty margarita, and the ring—which previously burned a hole in my pocket—sits there like a hunk of rock. Fitting, when one takes into account the sizable diamond inside. I bought her as big a ring as I could get away with. Time will tell. Maybe tomorrow morning.

Depending on her hangover.

But I have all the remedies for whatever ails her, guaranteed.

Bella scoots closer, and I immediately hug her tight. "Three margaritas … ugh," she moans. "Now I'm at the point where I can't tell if another dose of tequila would be an awesome idea or a terrible one."

I stifle my laugh, because I know it won't be well-received at this time. "Well, let's just say it's not the best idea."

She pulls back, looking up at me with a frown. "Are you saying I'm drunk?"

I lift a hand and pinch my fingers almost together. "Maybe a little?" I put on my most innocent face.

All the ire leaves her and she sighs, wafting a wave of tequila-lime scented Bella in my face. "Okay, I'm a little bit drunk." She goes from sad to happy in an instant. "You should catch up with me." Tequila-soaked Bella never disappoints.

"I don't drink alone anymore," I tell her, still fighting that smile. "And we've just decided there will be no more tequila for you."

"But I'm already drunk," she returns, looking puzzled.

"You're not currently drinking."

"Semantics, Edward."

I burst out laughing. She loves that word.

She gives me The Look. The universal one that says, "you'd better watch it." I realize this is the point where any further antagonization will just really piss her off, so I back down.

"Come, sit with me. Jake and I had a long day, and I need a neck massage." Okay, so I can't completely keep from provoking her a little bit. I also want to steer her away from the roses, which she hasn't noticed yet (though how, I have no idea—the damn things are huge). If she gets a glimpse of those, I'm not sure how I'll explain away such an extravagant gift without letting on that there's more in store. They'll keep until tomorrow morning.

"Only if you return the favor," she says with a grin that means only one thing: I'm going to be dealing with a drunk, horny woman very shortly.

I lead us to the living room, where she plops down on the sofa and opens her jean-clad legs, pointing at the floor between them. My eyes wander where any guy's would go when faced with his girlfriend—soon to be fiancée—in that position, but I settle at her feet quickly, hoping she didn't notice.

Her hands are firm on the tight, stressed muscles in my shoulders. They feel like heaven. She knows what I like, how hard to knead, how long to stay in one place. She hits all the right spots and I find myself melting back against the couch, leaning my head back into her abdomen. Bella gentles her touch and strokes my humming shoulders, before sliding her hands over and down my chest. As she bends down, her tits push into my face, and I can't stop the loud moan that breaks from my throat.

She sits up, laughing, and I'm left without her tits and her hands, and I don't like it. I lift one of her legs up so I can duck under it, positioning my body to see her better. Just to be sure I have her full attention, I snake an arm around her waist and tug her down to my lap.

"You can't honestly blame me, can you?"

She places a laughing kiss on my lips. "Not at all. You can't resist all this."

I kiss her almost chastely, but she grabs the sides of my head and nips at my lips.

Chuckling, I rub my nose against hers. "Tequila makes you feisty. I like it."

"Good. Then shut up and kiss me."

"Is that a dare?"

"It's always a dare, because you know you can't resist."

I hum in agreement. "That's true." The words graze her lips, and she tries to say something, but I smother her words with my mouth. The sweet, tart flavor of limes on her tongue is intoxicating, and I kiss her until I feel as drunk as she probably does. We part, breathing hard. Her eyes are glassy but intense, and she looks at me like I'm her next meal.

"Hey, Edward?" Bella asks, so soft I nearly can't hear her over the sound of our breathing.

"Yeah?"

"I dare you to fuck me." Her voice is louder, but not enough for me.

"What was that?" I ask with a smirk.

Giving me a warning look, she moves her hands to my chest, clenching her fingers in the fabric of my shirt before beginning to work on the buttons. "I said, I dare you to fuck me," she answers, louder this time. Slower. The words hang between us like fog, wrapping us in their embrace.

Once she finishes opening my shirt, I shrug out of the cotton, tossing it aside. I slide my hands under her shirt and push it up, eyes on the skin I'm baring. She's so damn beautiful, and I'm so lucky she calls me hers. Clad in her jeans and a lacy, navy-blue bra, she's a perfect fucking vision.

She goes for my jeans, and I'm about to let her—but then I remember the box in my pocket. I have to get rid of it somehow, before she realizes it's not just my penis who's happy to see her. As a distraction, I grab her hands, pin them in one of mine, and kiss the shit out of her, kiss her like I want to fuck her—hard and fast, then soft and slow. I almost get lost in it, but then Bella shifts on my lap, which feels fucking great on my dick, but she's way too close to that ring box. Somehow, I manage to snag the box with my free hand and shove it underneath the couch. It's not easy—she's pulling at my hand, trying to get hers on me. There's also the fact that 99.9% of my brain is focused on kissing her; I'm so caught up I can't think straight.

As soon as I can, I let go of her hands, and mine go straight to her bra. I barely manage to not rip it off her body. It goes flying across the living room; her tits are in my hands before it hits the floor. I pinch her nipples, roll them between my fingers. Bella makes the sexiest moans, louder than normal because of her buzz. I fucking love it. One of my hands makes its way down between her legs, but I curse when I feel the denim. My access to her soft skin is restricted, and I'm running out of patience. Yanking my mouth from hers, I rasp, "Get those jeans off," and lightly smack her ass.

She gasps, irritation flashing in her eyes, but I simply work open the fly of my jeans. The rasp of the zipper draws her eyes downward, and she bites her lip just about the same time I pull my dick out. She quickly gets to her feet, giving me room to shuck off my own jeans. She hops around a little, stripping her jeans and panties away, and almost trips over the coffee table. Thankfully, I catch her and bring her right back where she belongs—on top of me.

We're both laughing as she straddles me, settling her hips atop mine. She's trapped my cock between us, teasing me with her wetness. I grip her hips, ready to lift them up and push inside her.

"Dare me again," I whisper, digging my fingers into the flesh of her ass.

"I dare you."

"Dare me to what?" Oh, I'm asking for it now, but only because I know it will pay off soon. I want her lost, out of control; I want her to fuck me wild.

She grips my face in her hands. "Fuck me, Edward," she almost growls, bringing my face to hers. Her kiss is punishing, and I eat it up.

I let her control the kiss, control everything but the hold I have on her hips. Taking her direction, I pick her up and guide her down on my cock, moaning aloud at the way her pussy squeezes me.

"Oh, God," Bella cries, rotating her hips in counter to my thrust, and my eyes nearly cross.

There's no more talking. I can't keep my hands off her, yet they never seem to stay in one place. Her hands are the same as we move together, neither one of us able to get enough. When I get too close, I inch my hand down between us, finding her clit and circling the slippery flesh.

"Just like that," she commands, arching into my touch.

I grin, circling faster. "You like that?" I know she does, I can tell by how tight she's getting.

"Yes, you—oh, God!" she cries, and goes over the edge.

I get the feeling that if I hadn't just made her come, she would've insulted me.

She laughs as she comes down, lightly smacking me on the shoulder. "Are you happy?"

"Not yet," I quip and flip her onto her back, thrusting right back inside her so hard she scoots up the rug a bit. She's still giggling, so I assume she's fine. I know she is when she wraps her legs around my hips. God, I love this woman, who can laugh at virtually anything, in any situation. However, there's a limit, and I've reached it.

I kiss her to shut her up, speed up my pace, and neither of us laughs for a long while.

.

X

.

The next morning, I consider joining her in the shower and asking her there, but the possibility of dropping the ring down the drain is too high. I mull over making her a mimosa and slipping the ring in the champagne flute like a complete cliche, but I'm afraid she'll choke on it. In the end, I go with simplicity and decide to wing it. Yes, I'm an idiot.

When Bella wakes, I pretend to be sleeping. She's always so considerate of my strange sleeping hours, so I know she won't doubt I'm actually asleep. I just hope she goes straight for the shower, allowing me time to retrieve the ring.

As soon as I hear the water, I'm out of bed like a shot, streaking to the living room on a mission. It's got to be somewhere near the end of the couch. I hit the rug on my knees and shove my hands under the couch without looking, ready to snag that ring box easily.

But it's not there. What is, though, is a cold dog nose, right in the ass. I shriek, turning around and covering my junk.

"What the hell, Jake? That's a no-no zone, dude."

He cocks his head at me, clearly puzzled as to why the human doesn't appreciate the traditional dog greeting.

Then I notice something hanging out of his mouth.

Something black.

"Jake?" I approach slowly so he doesn't run. One hand out, one on my junk. The little bugger likes to lick. "What'cha got there, buddy?"

He licks his lips and the scrap falls out. Gingerly, I pick it up. It's black velvet, and my stomach sinks. I scan the room and notice shreds of the box all over the living room rug, but no ring. Jake pants up at me happily, not a care in the world. He's probably expecting me to feed him right about now.

I have a feeling the only thing I'll be feeding him is laxatives.

Frantically, I get on my hands and knees again in search of the ring, to no avail.

But I know where the damn thing is. I just know.

Bella is half naked, eyes wide as I stride into the bedroom. She's adorable. She'd be even more adorable wearing my ring, but it's in-fucking-side our dog. At least, it better be.

"Bella, we're taking Jake to the vet."

"What? Why?" She sounds panicked. But not half as much as I am.

"He needs an x-ray," I say darkly.

"What's wrong with him? And why are you naked? What's going on, Edward?" Bella crosses her arms over her chest, starting to look pissed.

"Can you just trust me on this?" I grab a shirt and shorts from my dresser and throw them on.

"Is something wrong with Jake? Please, you have to tell me."

"Jake is fine, but he needs an x-ray." I'm not going to get out of this without explaining, but I'll sure as hell try.

"You mentioned that. But why?" Bella asks, voice raised.

"I think he ate something."

"He eats things all the time. They all come back out eventually," she says, as if I'm panicking over nothing. Little does she know.

"He still needs an x-ray," I persist.

She starts laughing. "Oh, boy. What did you lose?" She tugs on a pair of jeans and runs her hands through her wet, wavy hair.

I love how she can laugh at anything, but right now that trait is rubbing me the wrong way. If she knew how important this is for me, she wouldn't be doing it. But there's no way for her to know if I don't tell her.

"I think he ate your engagement ring," I admit.

Her mouth drops open and then snaps shut. Twice. Then she swallows, and croaks, "My what?"

"Your engagement ring," I repeat. "I think Jake ate it. He ate the box."

"How did he get the box?"

She still looks dazed as her eyes move from me to Jake and back again.

"It was under the couch."

"How did it get there?"

"I put it there … while we were…"

"Oh … oh! But why didn't you give it to me? Did you decide not to?" Hurt blooms in her eyes, and I move to reassure her.

Taking her hand, I pull her close to me and wrap my arms around her. "No, love. Well, I did decide not to, but only because it wasn't the right time."

"Why not? I feel like I'm asking this a lot right now."

"I didn't want to propose while you were drunk," I admit.

"I ruined it. Shit," she sighs, making me laugh a little.

"You didn't ruin it. Why do you think I was out here hunting for the ring?" And my attention is drawn right back to the big poop emoji in the living room—AKA Jake. We both make our way out of the bedroom, where I lock eyes with the little shit.

We're in a stare down of epic proportions when Bella waves a hand in front of my face.

"Edward, you can't will it out of him." She's smirking when I finally look at her.

"Mira-Lax can," I say decisively. "Or whatever the dog-equivalent is."

Bella goes on tiptoe to peck my lips. "Let's get in the car then. But shh on the V-E-T stuff. We don't wanna give ourselves away."

.

.

.

 **BELLA**

I haven't let it sink in that he's going to propose. If I let it sink in, I might explode like a balloon full of rainbow confetti. I might do pirouettes across his living room floor, and then break dance. I might grab one of those roses from that ginormous bouquet in the kitchen, and do the tango with a stem clamped in my teeth.

However, I need to function like a rational human being at the moment. This isn't the first time Jake has had an x-ray for this very reason—he ate the key to Charlie's gun cabinet last year. I had to follow him around for three days.

Edward won't take that news well. The non-verbal shade he keeps throwing at Jake has me considering that Edward might be the bigger threat to Jake's health than my engagement ring.

The Ring. My Preciousss…

And the rainbow confetti is back.

I can feel the stupid grin on my face as we race to the vet. It's no use trying to get Edward to quit speeding; I guess he figures he'll control the speed of the car while he can, because there's no controlling the ring's trip through the dog's entire digestive system.

The man in question looks a wreck. His hair is messy and his clothes are wrinkled. His tense jaw and stiff posture only add to the air of stressed mania wafting off of him. I put a hand on his leg, patting gently. He doesn't look at me, but puts his hand atop mine and doesn't let go.

Jake pants at us from the back seat, oblivious to what's coming. It's only once we get about a block from the vet's that he starts to freak out. I fear for his life if he scratches up Edward's seats in his doggie panic.

"It's going to be okay," I say, trying to get Edward out of his head.

"We don't know that. What if it gets stuck? What if he needs surgery? What if it hurts him?"

Aww. He has such a heart. I know he's incredibly pissed at Jake, but he's still concerned. It's just one more reason in the long list of reasons why I love him.

Now's the time to break the news. He'll take it better now that worry has softened his anger. "He's going to be fine. He ate the key to Charlie's gun cabinet last year, and he turned out fine."

"You're a shit, Jake," he aims toward the back seat, but there's a hint of a smile to the almost flat line of his mouth. "How long did it take?"

"Three days."

"I've gotta wait three days to propose to you? And sift through poop the whole time?"

"Yep. Change your mind?"

"Are you nuts? Of course not. I'd do a hell of a lot worse."

"So romantic," I laugh.

He's smiling now, too. "I had the romance part down. Wine, roses … all of it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he insists. "I'd only change one thing about last night, and it doesn't have anything to do with you." He squeezes my hand as we turn the final corner. On cue, Jake starts whining, but otherwise stays still. He must know he's on thin ice.

Edward has lost some of his tension, and there's a smile on his face. He's enjoying Jake's discomfort, and I can't even be mad over it. I'm sort of enjoying it too. I could be wearing Edward's ring right now, but it's in our dog's tummy. Dammit.

But the thing is—I don't need the ring. I belong to him with or without the hardware, and he belongs to me.

.

x

.

The vet visit went pretty much as I expected.

For the next three and a half days, every poop walk is like an archaeological dig. Yes, it's disgusting, and I avoid as much of it as I can, pawning it off on Edward. When he's at work, however, it's all me. Thank God for disposable gloves. I wear a double layer every time. I should buy stock in Purell.

I know it's over when Edward bursts into the room, holding up a baggie like a prize.

"I can see it! I can see it!" He points to the bag and spins around in a circle, making me crack up. Then I notice who's missing.

"Edward? Where's Jake?"

"In the yard." He looks incredulous, like he thinks I don't care about the ring.

I do, but I have a bad feeling. "Did you remember to shut the gate?"

"I think so…" His brows crease and then his eyes bug out. "No! Shit."

We both race down the steps and out on the porch, where we see Jake's happy ass trotting down the street.

"You're gonna marry me, right?" Edward huffs as we run.

"Of course, are you nuts?" I yell back, starting to get out of breath.

"Because I don't run down the street, carrying a bag of shit for just anyone."

"I said yes!"

Edward holds both arms up in a V. "She said yes!"

"Good for you, buddy!" someone yells out their window. They don't sound all that congratulatory, but I don't even care. I don't even care that the closest thing I've had to a proposal is while we're running down the sidewalk after my asinine escaped dog.

"Thank you," Edward calls back, waving like an Olympian who just won the gold.

I don't even care that he looks like a deranged idiot—I just care that he's mine.

And so we run, off into the sunset, with Edward carrying that poop bag like a victory flag.

.

x

.

I still haven't seen the ring, and it's been four days. Are we really even engaged? I mean, I thought he asked me while we were chasing Jake, but it appears he's forgotten to give me the actual ring. Granted, I want that thing sanitized within an inch of its life, but also, I'd like some confirmation that it actually happened.

It doesn't help that Edward's work schedule has been crazy. With school starting this week, we've barely seen one another. I come home exhausted from classes and TA duties, and he's been working noon to midnight the last few days. It's hard to communicate when we're both half-asleep. When we do manage to overcome the sleepiness, we're not exactly talking much, if you know what I mean.

The weekend is upon us now, and once Edward gets home, he's off for the whole two days. As excited as I am to have two whole free days with him, I'm also a little anxious. Will it happen? Will he finally make it official? I haven't felt this unsure since before we confessed our feelings for one another.

He's due home any minute, and I'm a ball of nerves. It's even affecting Jake—he's slowly pacing the floor between me and the door, head down like he's stalking a trace scent. I don't know why I'm letting the lack of ring bother me, because it's not like I doubt Edward's love for me, or his intentions. I just don't like surprises.

I'm so deep in thought I don't notice the door opening until Edward is halfway through it. I jump up, while Jake sits at attention, tongue lolling out in a happy doggy grin. I don't blame him. I'm ready to sit up and beg for Edward's attention, too.

The man in question looks gorgeously exhausted, if there is such a thing. Sleep deprivation looks so good on this man it's not even funny.

"You're home," I say, barely managing to not roll my eyes at myself, but I'm too busy grinning at Edward.

"Thank God," he sighs, giving Jake a cursory pat on the head on his way over to me. I get the better end of the deal as he wraps me in his arms and kisses the top of my head. "I missed you," he murmurs into my hair.

I lock my arms around his back and press my face into his chest, breathing deep. While he smells a bit like hospital, but I don't even mind. I'm just glad to have him home and all to myself for a couple days.

I pull back to look up at him. "How was work, dear?"

He smirks. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, honey. Now, where are my slippers? Is dinner on the table?"

"Right next to today's paper," I say sweetly, enjoying the way his eyes glint with mischief. "I believe you'll find those slippers especially appetizing. I heated them myself."

"You'd make a terrible fifties housewife," he informs me, grinning as he plants a kiss on my lips. Then he smacks my ass. "Seriously though, I'm hungry. Would you mind getting me something while I change?"

Another quick kiss and he's gone, disappearing into the bedroom.

Well. I expected something a bit more romantic from our reunion, but whatever. I guess I'll get him something to eat; he is probably starving. The man always forgets to eat at work. I throw together a quick sandwich and some chips, then grab a can of Coke from the fridge.

When I return from the kitchen, he's waiting for me at the dining table, wearing the same clothes. I give him a puzzled look as I slide the food in front of him. He watches me, a slight smile on his lips, but makes no move to eat.

"What's up with you?" I ask, unable to keep from smiling under his sort of adorable scrutiny. "Is something wrong?"

"No … no, nothing's wrong." Still, with that look. "I'm just … taking it in."

"Taking what in?"

"The before."

"That must be the sleep deprivation talking, because you're making no sense."

"Maybe it will … after." His smile becomes a full-blown grin, and I'm lost in more ways than one.

"After what?"

"After this." He gets down on one knee and reaches into his pocket.

I cover my mouth with my hands and take in the sight, praying I don't start blubbering all over the place.

"Bella, I wanted you before I even realized what was happening. And when I did … well, I fought it like hell."

"I know all this," I cut in.

"Shush, you. This is my gig," he admonishes, trying to look stern, even with the mile-wide grin on his face. He clears his throat. "When I gave in to you, my whole world changed. I gained a lover, a partner, and a new best friend. Someone I can laugh with, someone who makes me feel like I hung the moon. Bella, you fulfill every need I never knew I had. But there's one more thing…"

And then he stops. The seconds tick by as we wait, eyes locked on one another.

Finally, he pulls his hand out of his pocket, holding up the ring.

"Isabella Swan, I dare you to marry me."

My answer is instant—he doesn't even need to goad me with the old "double dog dare." It's the same as it's been since I was twelve.

"I dare you to love me forever, Edward Cullen," I say, smiling through the film of happy tears in my eyes.

"Is that a yes?" he asks, with a knowing grin.

"Of course it's a yes, Edward. Yes!" I hold out my hand and he slips the ring on my finger.

Leaping to his feet, he sweeps me up in his arms, hugging me so tightly my feet leave the ground. My lips find his and we lose ourselves for a few moments, and when he sets me on my feet, I'm more than a little dizzy.

"I dare you to never let me go," he murmurs.

"Done," I reply.

And I don't.

.

.

.

THE END.

* * *

 _I'm marking this complete as of now, but I might come up with a futuretake or two, depending on my flaky muse. She's absent at the moment._

 _I want to thank SarcasticBimbo again for her insightful comments and suggestions. She really helped make this story better._

 _As for Jake and his eating of the engagement ring—my dad had a dog that was an "eater." He always turned out fine. He never ate an engagement ring, but for the sake of fiction I assumed things would come out smoothly, haha._

 _Thank YOU for reading. This would be just a silly story in the depths of my computer if it wasn't for all of you. Thank you so much._


	20. Future Take

_SarcasticBimbo's thoughts and suggestions make my writing better._

* * *

 **Four Years Later…**

 **BELLA**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

My back aches as I gather my things from my desk. I've just escorted my last parent out of the classroom, and parent teacher conferences are officially over. I place my palm over my lower back and press, while my other goes to rest on the front of my belly. We're cutting it close. Baby Cullen is due to make an appearance any day now, but now that I've got those conferences out of the way, I vote for sooner rather than later. Judging by the way Baby is kicking, sooner might be the winning vote.

"I dare you to hurry up, little one," I whisper with a smile, then wince as I move to pick up a stray folder. I hate sitting at my desk all day. It's hell on my back. Then again, so is standing all day. I'm in my thirty-ninth week of pregnancy—pretty much everything makes me uncomfortable these days.

There's a tap on the doorframe and I look up to find my husband waiting with a smile, looking delicious in his scrubs. I knew he wouldn't be far behind once the last parents left. I know I saw him lurking out in the hallway a few conferences back.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe you're on my schedule," I say with a smirk, as he makes his way into my second grade classroom.

"I'm permanently penciled in," he returns with a confident grin. He reaches me, wraps me in his arms, belly and all, and drops a soft kiss on my lips. "How are we feeling tonight?"

"Okay, but I'm tired. My back hurts because of those stupid chairs."

Edward frowns, his hands searching my back. "What if it's labor?"

I laugh at my sweet, paranoid husband. "I doubt it. First time mothers are usually late."

"But you're on your feet so much. All that gravity…"

I laugh harder. "Are you afraid Baby is going to fall out?" It's a loaded question and we both know it. If he so much as suggests that things are that loose down there…

"Shutting up now," he mumbles with a final squeeze. Stepping back, he asks, "Ready to go?"

I nod and move to pick up my bag, but Edward is quicker.

"Ooh, my own personal bellboy." We head out of the classroom and into the halls.

He grins. "Of course, Ma'am."

"Just don't expect a tip."

"Never." He shoots me a wink. " _I'm_ the one with the tip."

"Always with the terrible jokes."

"You like my jokes."

"That's what you think." I can't conceal my smile. I do like his dumb jokes, almost as much as he likes mine.

"We're getting off track here. We're supposed to be talking about my tip," he says as we exit the building, placing particular emphasis on the last word. We get a funny look from another couple also leaving the building.

I shake my head, laughing as he takes my hand. I'm half afraid of where he's going to put it. Thankfully (though it's a tad disappointing), he keeps it PG until we get to the car. Opening the car door for me, he leans in to set my bag on the passenger seat. As I attempt to get in, he cages me between himself and the car.

"Now I can proposition you properly." He waggles his eyebrows and slides one arm around my waist.

I gesture to my belly, where Baby Cullen kicks between us. "As if I'm not an easy sell when it comes to your charms, Doctor. There's some pretty obvious proof right here."

"I do have you under my spell," he muses with a smile. Leaning down, his lips meet mine, the chaste kiss turning a bit desperate when I try to pull him closer.

He really does have me under his spell.

He hums against my lips as the kiss gentles. "I missed you today."

"I thought about you a couple times," I joke, then pull him down for another kiss that says otherwise.

When we break apart, Edward smiles down at me. "I thought making out in the parking lot was for the high school crowd."

I roll my eyes. "And you just killed the mood."

"There was a mood?" he asks innocently.

"Oh, you know there was a mood."

With a sly look, he says, "There's always a mood with us. It's not always a good one, but…"

"Hey!" I playfully smack his chest. Baby Cullen kicks out at Edward's abdomen. I know, the baby has no concept of where he or she's kicking, but I like to pretend.

"Okay, okay. Let's go home, where we can continue this conversation about moods." He waggles his eyebrows.

"I'll meet you there. It's a race." I'm stirring the pot with this comment, and I know it.

Edward frowns. "No races. You and Baby are relegated to five under the speed limit at all times."

"Then so are you," I counter, and he pouts. "Daddies need to stay safe, too."

"You have a point," he says, though I can tell he's only pretending to be disappointed. His driving has become much more sedate since finding out about Baby.

"So I'll see you at home."

He nods, but doesn't move, just looks down at me with a slight smile on his face.

"What?" I ask, starting to feel a bit self-conscious.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, kissing my forehead. "I never want to let you go."

"Same here," I admit, realizing we're venturing far into cheesy sap territory. "But I've been here for more than eight hours and I'd really like to go home." The last part sounds a bit snippy, but I place the blame squarely on pregnancy hormones.

Edward laughs and backs away with a knowing look. "See you there, love." He turns away and walks a few paces, but changes his mind and rushes back to plant a quick kiss on my lips. "Love you. Be safe." Then he's leaving again.

I grin. "Love you, too," I call, staring at his sexy ass before squeezing myself into the car.

.

x

.

He's in the bedroom when I get home, changing out of his scrubs. I catch him with his shirt off and practically drool in excitement. My pregnancy hormones might make me bitchy sometimes, but they also make me hornier than Austin Powers.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, pulling a t-shirt over his head.

I sure am, I think to myself, but not how he means. "The PTO fed us dinner a couple hours ago. They hosted a taco bar for all the teachers."

He laughs. "Bet you and Baby loved that."

We're big fans of tacos. I could eat them daily. "It was delicious. I'm sad I could only fit two in my stomach. Baby takes up a lot of room these days."

He comes over to rest a hand on my belly. "I can't believe she's almost here." Bending down, he kisses the curve of my stomach. "Mommy and Daddy can't wait to meet you, little one." God, he's adorable.

"Still positive Baby is a girl, huh?" I agree with him, though I pretend not to, just to keep him on his toes. He's been convinced she's a girl since we found out I'm pregnant. Baby, however, has decided to keep us in the dark. At every ultrasound, my doctor has been unable to get a look at the goods. After the third try, we decided to do things the old-fashioned way and be surprised.

"Positive," he confirms with a nod as he straightens. "I'm a doctor. I know things."

I laugh. "You're not God."

"That's not what you said last night."

"You're awful."

"I repeat, that's not what you said last night," he laughs, dodging my hand when I try to push him away.

" _I_ repeat, you're awful," I say, but I can't stop laughing.

Wrapping his arms around me, he tows me toward the bed. "I see you need a repeat performance," he growls, planting kisses along my neck. "Let's see if we can knock this baby out of you."

"How romantic," I say, trying to sound sarcastic, but I have to admit, it sounds more like a whimper as he hits a sweet spot just below my jaw.

"I do try," he laughs. His warm breath on my neck makes me shiver.

We reach the edge of the bed and I let him guide me down onto the mattress. He pushes up my shirt, baring my belly. It always makes me feel a little self-conscious, even though I know there's no reason to be—Edward has made it clear he adores my body, pregnant or not. But as he methodically strips us both, my thoughts turn toward his body, not mine. Sometimes I might resent the time he spends running or at the gym, but boy, do I willingly reap the benefits.

His mouth is everywhere, and I run my hands over his shoulders and back, trying to feel as much of him as possible. He grabs my face in both hands, taking my mouth in a kiss that has me gasping for breath.

"Lie on your side," he instructs when we part, and he spoons behind me. Lining himself up, he thrusts inside, and he's not gentle. "How's that for romantic?" he growls in my ear, arms snaking around me.

I laugh, holding onto his forearms, loving his answering, almost evil chuckle. "So romantic. Sickeningly sweet."

"I thought so," he grunts as he hooks an arm under my knee, pulling my leg back over his thigh. He sets a fast pace, and I moan as he goes deeper. Burying his face in my neck, he breathes, "You feel so good."

And so does he. I have no idea how he manages to make me feel tiny when I look like I swallowed a Volkswagen, but the way he manhandles me with such ease, it drives me wild. He doesn't treat me like glass, but he's not rough, either. He always knows just what I need.

"Touch yourself, love," he tells me, nipping at my earlobe. "I'm close."

I reach down to play with my clit, and it doesn't take me long. I can't hold out against the feeling of him inside me, wrapped around me.

Edward follows soon after. "I love you," he sighs as he relaxes behind me.

"I love you, too." I pick up his hand and lay a soft kiss on top.

After a few minutes, I shift so I can look back at him. "You think that did it?"

He grins. "I sort of hope it didn't. I'd like to keep doing this for a little while longer."

"Always with the sex," I tease, knowing I'm just as bad.

Giving me a knowing look, he kisses me gently, one hand caressing my belly. Baby isn't moving, which is fairly normal after sex. Edward says all the rocking probably puts her to sleep.

He's probably right; not that I'll ever admit it to him. He's a lot of things: husband, friend, lover, helper … but the most important thing? He's mine. Always.

.

x

.

 **EDWARD**

As much as I've done my best to kickstart Bella's labor, we've been a no-go on that front. Baby is taking her time. Bella is officially a week late, and it's making me nervous.

"What will you miss when Baby's here?" Bella asks as we veg out on the couch. It's a rainy Sunday afternoon and I don't have to be at work until tomorrow night. We're both in our PJs. "And don't say the sex," she teases. Her eyes almost sparkle with it when I look at her.

"Well, what else am I supposed to say?" I ask, trying to look innocent. There are plenty of things I'll miss, freedom mostly, but I'm afraid telling her about them might make me look selfish, and the last thing I want to do is make her feel like I don't want this with her. Because it's the number one thing I do want; I've wanted to make a family with Bella since before we got married, to be honest.

"Well, I'll miss the quiet, like this," Bella starts.

"Me, too. But there will be quiet with her, too. There will just be three of us on the couch." I smile, thinking of cuddling here, next to Bella, while she holds our baby in her arms. I can't wait.

"I suppose I'll miss the freedom. To just pick up and do whatever we want, without having to line up a babysitter," I offer, pulling her a little closer. "But I'm not sure I'll miss anything more than I'll love finally meeting her."

Bella sighs, then sniffs. "God, you're too sweet."

"Don't cry, love."

She grumbles at me under her breath as she dashes a few tears away, something about me being too damn cute. I refrain from teasing her, knowing how much she hates crying so easily. The pregnancy hormones will be something she doesn't miss, I'm sure.

Placing a finger under her chin, I turn her face up to mine for a kiss. "I love you. And Baby. You two are my world."

"Stop it," she laughs, through more tears.

"Hey, it's the truth."

"I know. It's just … you're so great. I'm so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one," I insist, putting a hand on her belly.

She stacks hers on top. "We're all lucky, I guess."

I agree, but … I'm the luckiest—I've got her.

.

x

.

I'm on the back end of an eighteen hour shift when I get the call.

"Don't freak out," Bella begins, which is an automatic cue for me to start freaking out.

"Is it Baby? Are you having contractions? Has your water broken?" I rapid-fire questions at her, my heart rate going through the roof.

"Yes, yes, and no," she answers, "And I thought I said not to freak out. Calm down, Edward."

I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. Feeling only marginally better, I ask, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. The contractions aren't too painful yet—" there's a long pause, in which I hear her suck in a few breaths, and I just know she's having a contraction, and I'm kicking myself because I can't be there with her— "Edward? Are you there?"

"Sorry, sorry! I'm just … I'm worried. Was that a contraction? How far apart are they?" I pace the hallway, tugging at my hair. I'm in the OB ward, coincidentally, which is pretty slow today.

"They're not super regular yet. Shit, they're probably those Braxton-Hicks contractions, even though I've never had them before … I probably shouldn't have called, but they hurt."

"Of course you should have called! I'm going to have them page Dr. Brady to come in for the rest of my shift. Then I'm coming to get you." I promise. "Do you think you can wait about half an hour? An hour at most?"

"The shortest interval between contractions has been about fifteen minutes, and that was one time. I think Baby will stay put for that long," she says with a little laugh.

"She'd better. I don't want you riding to the hospital in an ambulance."

"I could always call Emmett," she jokes.

"I take it back—I'd rather you rode in the ambulance," I say flatly. Emmett drives like I used to.

"We'll be fine," Bella promises softly. "Page Dr. Brady and then come and get us."

How is it that she manages to be the calm one in this situation? She's the one that will be pushing a baby out.

"I love you," I tell her, wishing she was already here and safe. It's killing me, knowing she's alone and vulnerable, and probably in pain.

"I love you, too. Now stop worrying and get over here."

"Yes, Ma'am," I respond with a laugh, then end the call.

I apprise my boss of the situation and then page Dr. Brady who, luckily, says she'll be here in fifteen minutes.

They're the slowest fifteen minutes in history. When she walks onto the floor three minutes late, I'm a wreck. She takes one look at me and laughs. "Go get your wife," she instructs, pointing in the direction of the elevators. I don't even hesitate; the only reason I hit the lockers on the way is because I need my car keys. All in all, I'm opening my front door within forty-five minutes of Bella's call.

"Bella? Love?" She's not in the living room or kitchen, and when I can't find her in the bedroom either, I start to panic. "Bell?"

"In here," she finally calls, and I realize she's in the nursery.

I find her sitting in the glider my mother bought for us, calmly rocking back and forth, Jake laid out next to the chair. She's somehow the picture of serenity, and I'm sure I resemble a fucked up crayon drawing of craziness. I rush to her and kneel, putting my hand on her belly, pressing a kiss to her lips.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good. I only had one contraction while you were gone … we might be waiting here for a while."

"That's absolutely fine with me, as long as you and baby are okay. Have you called Dr. Eleazar?"

"Yeah. She wants us to head to the hospital when the contractions are about ten minutes apart, or if my water breaks, and call her from there."

"Sounds like a plan." A plan I don't particularly like. If I had my way, we'd be on the way back to the hospital right the fuck now. I realize I'm being irrational; I know how these things work—I'm a regular in the OB ward. But this is my wife and baby, damn it. I want to hedge my bets.

"I'm glad you're here—" Bella starts, then grabs her belly and hisses. I'm speechless as she breathes through the pain, my own gut twisting with anxiety. I'm so not on board with my wife being in pain. Guess I should have thought of that before I knocked her up. But I have to put that out of my mind, because our daughter will be here soon.

"What can I do?" I ask when she relaxes, after what seems like an eternity but is probably less than thirty seconds.

"My back is killing me. Maybe you could rub it?" She pulls her phone from her pocket and checks the time. "That was about fifteen minutes."

I nod rapidly, before checking my watch so I can begin my own timing. A little redundancy can't hurt in this situation. Hopping to my feet, I hold out a hand to help Bella up. We move to the living room, where we situate ourselves on the couch, her back to me so I can try and massage away her pain.

I brush her hair away, tucking it over her shoulder, and drag my hands down to her lower back, savoring the feel of her body beneath my fingers. I'll enjoy this just as much as she will.

"Better?" I ask softly, enjoying her relieved sighs and tiny moans of appreciation.

"A little. You've got good hands, Doctor."

"So I'm told."

Bella shoots me an amused look over her shoulder. "By whom?"

"This gorgeous woman I live with. She's pretty great."

"Oh, she is? Tell me more," she says, laughing as she leans back into my touch.

"Well, let's see … she's beautiful and smart. She's funny, with a razor-sharp tongue. She's loving and kind, and she's giving me the most wonderful gift I've ever received…" I look up from watching my hands to find her watching me over her shoulder, eyes misty.

"You're kinda great, you know."

"Good, 'cause my hands are getting tired." I smirk at her, but keep rubbing.

"You're not done yet, buddy," she starts, but then hunches over with a sharp intake of breath. "Ow, ow, ow…"

I immediately check my watch, eyes bugging out as I see the time. "That was only eight minutes," I bark out, making a plan in my head. "We need the bag. We need the bag!"

"Edward, it was only one contraction," she protests after the contraction is gone.

Bella is looking at me like I'm a crazy person, and maybe she's right. Because I'm suddenly terrified my wife is going to have to give birth to our daughter right here on our living room rug. Needing to do something, I run and grab the hospital bag from the closet, then dump it next to the front door.

"I need a bag. I'm gonna go throw some stuff in a duffel. You'll be okay for like two minutes, right?" The words are rapid fire, and I can't stop them. I can't stop the panic. But as soon as I get my physical shit together, I can work on getting my mental shit together. Then I can help my wife.

She just looks at me, eyes wide, and nods slowly, like she's trying to placate the crazy man. I rush off to the bedroom and quickly pack a few things. Who knows what I forgot. I pull and tug at my hair, trying to remember what else I need. I give up and carry my duffel out to place it next to Bella's bag.

She's still on the couch, watching me warily, but doesn't seem to be in any pain.

"Are you okay?" I ask, making great effort to sound as calm as possible.

She nods. "I'm fine. I really think we should wait a bit longer before leaving. That one could have been a fluke and I don't want to spend more time at the hospital than we have to. I'd like to labor at home as long as possible."

I sink to my knees before her. "I understand … but I'm really nervous about this. I want you and Baby in the hospital where you're safe."

A small smirk flits across her features. "Women have home births all the time."

I feel the blood drain from my face. "We're not seriously going to talk about this now? You haven't expressed any interest in a home birth during this whole pregnancy." I'm going to be bald before this night is over, I know it.

Laughing, Bella shakes her head. "No, but it was funny to see that vein pop out on your forehead."

"I'm glad my stress amuses you," I say wryly, taking comfort in the fact that if my wife is teasing me, she's feeling like her normal self. "Let's go, please?" I'm not above begging.

She sighs. "All right. But I reserve the right to say 'I told you so'."

"Of course. Wasn't that in the wedding vows?" I get to my feet and hold out a hand to help her up.

"Good one. I knew there was a reason I married you."

I drop a kiss on her lips. "Because your twelve-year-old self dreamed of it?"

"Shut up!" she giggles, but then tenses up. Putting her hands on my shoulders, she leans into me. I can't get a good look at my watch because I'm too busy holding her, but I know now it's definitely time to get to the damn hospital.

When it's over, I check to find it's been nine minutes since the last one.

"We're leaving," I say decisively, guiding her to the front door.

"Wait—what if my water breaks in your car? We need a towel."

"That's why we're taking yours."

"We still need the towel!"

"Stay put." Like a good husband, I rush off to find a towel.

"Like I'm going anywhere without you!" she calls after me. I think I hear something like "stupid jerkface" after that, but I choose to chalk it up to pregnancy hormones.

.

x

.

Bella isn't happy with me when we reach the hospital and are told we need to walk the halls for a while before she can be admitted.

"I told you I could have labored at home," she growls through clenched teeth.

"I know, and I'm sorry. But this is so much safer," I reason.

"Not for you," she mumbles with a threatening look. A contraction hits and she uses me for support, fingers digging into my shoulders as she lays her forehead on my chest.

I decide it's in my best interests to keep my mouth shut, since my wife is mad at me and in pain. That's never a good equation for any husband, ever. When the contraction is over, we resume our walking in silence.

But eventually, I can't take it. I hate it when she's irritated with me. "It's just … I worry, you know? I want to keep you and Baby safe, and the hospital is the best place to do that."

"I know," she says grudgingly, as we make another circuit of the OB ward.

"I love you."

"And I love you, you overprotective know-it-all." The tiniest of smiles graces her lips, and I just have to kiss her.

She pulls back with a hiss, her hands going back to my shoulders and digging in. She really sags against me, trying to breathe deep through the pain. Once it subsides, I check my watch.

"Five minutes between the last two. Let's check with the triage nurse and see if we can get you admitted, and we can call Dr. Eleazar again."

This time, we get a room. We get settled in, and Bella's contractions fluctuate between 5-10 minutes apart. Dr. Eleazar makes an appearance, does an exam, and pronounces Bella dilated enough for an epidural if she wants one.

"I'm not consulting on this one," I joke, holding up my hands.

Bella rolls her eyes. "This is why you're a doctor, not a comedian."

"Hey—I earn plenty of smiles. The good drugs do that."

"I don't doubt it. But I think I'll hold off for now. I want to be able to move around."

"That's fine, Bella," Dr. Eleazar says. "Edward can page anesthesiology if you change your mind."

"One of the perks of having a husband on staff." I waggle my eyebrows.

"He still thinks he's a comedian."

Dr. Eleazar laughs, shaking her head. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while. Bella, you're doing great."

We pace the room and use the birthing ball for a while, until Bella's water finally breaks. Through it all, she takes the pain like a champ, but once her water is broken, it seems to get the best of her.

"Edward?" she asks, after a particularly difficult contraction, one in which she tries to crush every bone in my hand, "I think I want one."

She doesn't even have to explain. Seeing her in pain has been eating at me all night. I call for a nurse to check her and then page anesthesiology. Once it's determined that Bella's not too far along for an epidural, it's over in a matter of minutes, and she's feeling worlds better.

It's still another couple hours before things get really close. At least she's feeling no pain. Another nurse comes in to do a cervical check, and declares, "We're having a baby soon—almost ten centimeters and I can feel the head."

The room gets busier. Bella looks entirely too calm for someone about to push a baby out of her body. Things go silent for me as I watch the nurses set up the warmer and break down the bed for birth. It hits me then, really hits me—I'm going to be someone's father. I'll have someone to protect and teach and guide; I'm responsible for helping raise a productive member of society. My vision goes dark at the edges and my chest gets tight. Bella's saying something to me, but it's like I've lost the ability to understand English.

Oh, shit—I'm going down.

.

x

.

I wake up to no less than four nurses laughing down at me.

"Somebody get a pillow! Dr. Cullen wanted to take a nap!" one cackles. I think she's our charge nurse; she looks familiar. It's all kind of blurry from down here, though the laughter seems to be coming from every direction. I should be able to remember who these people are, but my brain is fuzzy.

"Where's my wife?" I reach up and probe at the sore spot on the back of my skull.

"Up here, you big doofus," I hear Bella call down to me. Why does she sound so far away? At least she sounds happy. She's laughing, too.

"Why am I down here?"

The cackling begins again, only louder this time.

"We have some bad news, Dr. Cullen—" Nurse One starts, but panic has me interrupting.

"Bella! Bella! You're fine, right? What's—" I try to leap to my feet, but my body doesn't seem to want to work right and my brain is dizzy.

"I'm fine," Bella calls, and she's still laughing. Why is everything so funny?

"Perhaps I shouldn't have used that particular phrase," the nurse amends.

"Will someone please just tell me what's going on?" I look up at everyone, and they all seem to be silently arguing over who gets to tell me.

In the end, it's my wife who does the honors. "You passed out, Doctor."

"Has she been born? I didn't miss it, did I? Oh, God, you're gonna kill me—"

Bella can't seem to stop giggling. "No, you didn't miss it, you lunatic. They started breaking down the bed for the birth, and it was lights out."

Finally, my body cooperates and I'm able to sit up. The circle of onlookers backs up as they see I'm capable of sitting on my own. Bella is propped up in the bed, looking too blissful for a woman in transitional labor, and it's then I remember. "Fuck," I breathe, "I passed out."

"Bingo," says one of the nurses, and they all laugh again.

"How long was I out?"

"Only a minute or two," another nurse supplies.

"Thanks for helping me up, by the way." I'm ignored by everyone but my saintly wife.

"I would've helped you if I could walk," Bella says helpfully.

Dr. Eleazar waltzes through the door, a mile-wide smile on her face. "I had to see it for myself."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I force myself to my feet and stagger over to Bella's bedside, where I slump into the chair. "The whole hospital knows, I assume?" Strangely, I don't care. I can handle the hazing. I'm just relieved I didn't miss anything.

"They announced it over the intercom," Dr. Eleazar says with a barely straight face.

I roll my eyes. "Hospital gossip is faster than that."

"Will someone please check him out?" Bella asks, finally serious.

"I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"I'm great," she says with a big, dopey smile. She points to the screen monitoring her contractions. "Look at that! It's a big one."

"I don't know what happened … I think it all just hit me at once. I mean, she's almost here. You're about to give birth, and I can't do anything but stand by and watch. I need to help you and I don't know how…"

Dr. Eleazar interrupts. "You can help by taking your place right up there by Bella's head, Edward. Let's start there, because it's just about showtime." She's all business now. "Bella, how are you feeling?"

"Lots of pressure … I feel like I need to push."

Another wave of unsteadiness hits me, but I manage to keep it under wraps. This is happening. I settle in at Bella's side, grasping her hand. I press a kiss to her forehead, beaming when she smiles up at me.

"Let's have a baby," she whispers, and I have to kiss her for real, because what I feel in this moment? There's no other outlet for something this big. What I feel for her, and our baby, is bigger than everything.

I'm ready. We're ready.

Things progress quickly, and before I know it, they're laying a perfect, screaming baby girl on Bella's chest. Tears stream down Bella's face, and I feel my own eyes stinging. But my smile—my smile might split my face.

"Would you like to cut the cord?" Dr. Eleazar asks, and of course, I do, then I'm right back up at Bella's side.

The baby has stopped crying, and she's blinking up at Bella in wonder. I've never seen a more beautiful sight, even if my daughter is covered in goo. Even so, I can make out wispy brown curls, and I'm pretty sure she has Bella's chin. It looks like I might get my wish for a sweet little girl who looks just like her mother.

Also, I was right. We won't get into it right now, but … I was _so_ right.

"Look what we did," I murmur, reaching out to gently stroke her little cheek.

"I did all the work," Bella jokes, making me laugh. It startles the baby; her eyes go wide and then her little mouth scrunches up like she might cry, but she never does.

"You did amazing, love." I lean up to kiss Bella's cheek, but she turns and I get her mouth. "Thank you," I whisper against her lips. Pulling back, I look into her beautiful eyes. "You … the baby … you're the most amazing gifts. I love you both so much."

"We love you, too, Daddy."

The nurse comes to get our girl so she can clean her. I can tell Bella doesn't want to give her up.

"It's just a few minutes, love."

"I don't want to give her up for even that long." Tears well up in Bella's eyes again, and I brush them away when they spill over.

"Her name … do you think it fits?"

She nods. "I do. You know, it's a good thing she's not a boy. We didn't even pick any boy names."

"That's because you knew I was right all along."

"All right, all knowing one. You're right."

"I can't believe you admitted it," I say with a laugh.

"Back to the subject at hand." She points at me.

I look over to where the nurse is finishing up with our daughter. She wraps her up in a tight swaddle and fits one of those little beanies on her head, then brings her back to us.

"Would you like to hold her, Dad?" she asks.

"Make sure he sits down first," Bella jokes.

I scowl. "I'm fine." But I sit down anyway. I'm pretty sure I'm fine, but I don't want to chance it. The nurse places her in my arms, and I peer down at her sleepy face. "Hello, Riley," I whisper, cradling her to my chest. "Daddy loves you." I look up at Bella. "I can't believe she's here." It's hard to speak past the knot in my throat.

"Riley Elizabeth Cullen." Bella smiles at us. "You look good with a baby, Edward."

I grin at her, but my eyes are drawn right back to the bundle in my arms. There's nothing I wouldn't do for this tiny little person, and the woman who gave her to me. Riley starts to grunt and squirm, then turns her little head toward my chest.

"I think she's hungry. She's rooting."

A nurse appears out of what seems like nowhere to help Bella get ready to breastfeed. When she's ready, I rise and gingerly transfer Riley into her mother's arms. The nurse disappears as mother and daughter get the hang of it, and I'm left to witness what seems like a miracle to me. My wife, my daughter … I'm a dad now. It's my job to support and look after these two very special people. It's an overwhelming, yet utterly satisfying feeling.

After a while, Riley falls asleep, and Bella looks at me with sleepy eyes. It's the middle of the night, but I'm wide awake.

"I can hold her if you'd like to sleep," I whisper. "I'm not tired."

"I'd guess not. Not with the nap you took earlier." Bella gives me a mischievous smile and raises a brow.

"Am I ever going to live that down?"

"Nope." She shakes her head.

"Don't you love me?"

"So much … but I still can't let that one slide," she laughs.

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fair enough."

"One more thing."

"Oh, no. Did I say something embarrassing while I was out?"

Shaking her head, she says with a big smile, "Nope, but it might be just as bad … you're the one who gets to call the family."

My eyes widen. "Shit! We never called anyone!"

"Because that's exactly how I wanted it," Bella laughs.

"They're going to be pissed, and they'll take it out on me." This is going to suck.

"Payback, Edward. That's for spilling the beans about me getting arrested," Bella says with a wink.

She's right—again. But I'll do it, and gladly. I'll do anything for Bella and our baby girl. They're my life now.

.

.

.

* * *

 _I might add more futuretakes as my muse allows. They probably won't be in any particular order, since my muse is flaky._

 _This story is nominated for top 10 completed fics for the month of September over at twifanfictionrecs dot com. You can vote every day until Halloween. So many good fics on the list, but I'd love it if you'd give I Dare You a vote._

 _Thank you for reading._


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